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THE 



THOUGHTS IN VERSE FOR THE SUNDA YS 

AND HOLYDAYS THROUGHOUT 

THE YEAR 



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*''' In quietness atid in confidence shall be your strenotky- 
ISAIAH XXX. 15. 




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WHITE, STOKES, & ALLEN 

1887 



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Uj^v ^'h 1929 



A D VER TI SEMEN T. 



^Ubertisemcnt* 



NEXT to a sound rule of faith, there is nothing 
of so much consequence as a sober standard 
of feeling in matters of practical religion : and it is 
the peculiar happiness of the Church of England to 
possess, in her authorized formularies, an ample 
and secure provision for both. But in times of 
much leisure and unbounded curiosity, when excite- 
ment of every kind is sought after with a morbid 
eagerness, this part of the merit of our Liturgy ia 
likely in some measure to be lost, on many even of 
its sincere admirers : the very tempers, which most 
require such discipline, setting themselves, in gen- 
eral, most decidedly against it. 

The object of the present publication will be at- 
tained, if any person find assistance from it in 
bringing his own thoughts and feelings into more 
entire unison with those recommended and exem- 
plified in the Prayer Book. The work does not 
furnish a complete series of compositions ; being, 
in many parts, rather adapted with more or less 
propriety to the successive portions of the Liturgy, 
than originally suggested by them. Something has 
been added at the end concerning the several Oc- 
casional Services : which constitute, from their per- 
sonal and domestic nature, the most perfect instance 
of that soothing tendency in the Prayer Book, 
which it is the chief purpose of these pages to ex- 
hibit. 

May 30, 1827, 



CONTENTS. V. 

PAGE 

Morning . . x 

Evening , , 3 

The First Sunday In Advent 5 

The Second Sunday ir Advent. The Signs of the Times . 8 
The Third Sunday in Advent. TAe Travellers . . .10 
The Fourth Sunday in Advent. Ditftness , . . .12 

Christmas Day 15 

S. Stephen's Day . .17 

S. John the Evangelist's Day 19 

The Holy Innocents' Day 20 

The First Sunday after Christmas Day. The Sun-dial of 

Ahaz . _ 22 

The Circumcision of Christ 25 

The Second Sunday after Christmas Day. The Pilgrint's 

Song 27 

The Epiphany 29 

The First Sunday after the Epiphany. The Nightingale . 31 
The Second Sunday after the Epiphany. The Secret of Per- 

Jietual Youth 33 

The Third Sunday after the Epiphany. The Good Centurion 36 
The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany. The World is for 

Excitement, the Gospel for Soothing . . . .39 
The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. Cure Sin and you 

cure Sorrow 41 

The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany. The Benefits of Un- 
certainty 44 

The Sunday called Septuagesima 47 

The Sunday called Sexagesima -49 

The Sunday called Quinquagesima 51 

Ash Wednesday 53 

The First Sunday in Lent. The City of Refuge . . -55 
The Second Sunday in Lent. Esau s Forfeit . . .57 
The Third Sunday in Lent. The Spoils of Satan . . - 59 
The Fourth Sunday in Lent. The Rosebud . . . .61 
The Fifth Sunday in Lent. The Burning Bush . . .64 
The Sunday next before Easter, or Palm Sunday. The Chil- 
dren in the Tetnple -67 

Monday before Easter. Christ waiting for the Cross . . 68 
Tuesday before Easter. Christ refusing the Wine and 

Myrrh 71 

Wednesday before Easter. Christ in the Garden . , • 73 
Thursday before Easter. The Vision of the Latter Days . 75 

Good Friday 77 

Easter Even 79 

Easter Day 82 

Monday in Easter Week. S. Peter and Cornelius , . 84 

Tuesday in Easter Week. The Snow-drop . . . i 86 
The First Sunday after Easter. The Restless Pastor reproved 88 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Second Sunday after Easter. Balaam , . . .go 
The Third Sunday after Easter. Languor and Travail . 93 
The Fourth Sunday after Easter. The Dove on the Cross , 95 
The Fifth Sunday after Easter. The Priesfs Intercessor . 98 
The Ascension Day . _ . . . . . . . . 100 

The Sunday after Ascension Day. Seed-time .... 102 

Whitsunday 105 

Monday in Whitsun-week. The City of Confusion . . 106 
Tuesday in Whitsun-week. Holj/ Orders .... 109 

Trinity Sunday . . . _ 112 

The First Sunday after Trinity. Israel amo7tg the Ruins of 

Canaan . . . . . . . . . .114 

The Second Sunday after Trinity. Charity the Life of 

Faith . . . . _ _ 116 

The Third Sunday after Trinity. Coinfort for Sinners in 

the presence of the Good . . . . . . .118 

The Fourth Sunday after Trinity. The Groans of Nature . 120 
The Fifth Sunday after Trinity. The Fishermen of Beth- 

saida ........... 123 

The Sixth Sunday after Trinity. The Psalmist repenting . 125 
The Seventh Sunday after Trinity. The Feast in the 

Wilderness . . . , . , . . . .127 

The Eighth Sunday after Trinity. The Disobedient Prophet 129 
The Ninth Sunday after Trinity. Elijah in Horeb . • 131 
The Tenth Sunday after Trinity. Christ weeping over Je- 
rusalem .......... 133 

The Eleventh' Sunday after Trinity. Gehazi reproved . 135 

The Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. The Deaf and Dutnb . 137 
The Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Moses on the Mount 139 
The Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Ten Lepers , 142 
The Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Flowers of the 

Field 144 

The Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity. Hope is better than 

Ease ........... 146 

The Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. EzekieVs Vision in 

the Temple .......... 147 

The Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Church in the 

Wilderness 150 

The Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity. Shadrach, Meshach^ 

and Abednego ......... 153 

The Twentieth Sunday after Trinity. Mountain Scenery . 155 
The Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity. The Redbreast in 

September 157 

The Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity. The Rule of 

Christian Forgiveness ....... 159 

The Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. Forest Leaves in 

Autzimn .......... 160 

The Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity, Imperfection of 

Hu-tnan Sytnpathy , ...... 162 

The Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity. The two Rainbows 165 
The Sunday next before Advent. Self-examination before 

Advent 167 

S. Andrew's Day .•..,..... 170 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

S. Thomas the Apostle 171 

The Conversion of S. Paul . 174 

The Purification of S. Mary the Virgin ..... 177 
S. Matthias' Day , . . . _ . . . . .180 

The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary . . . 182 

S. Mark's Day 184 

S. Philip and S. James's Day 185 

S. Barnabas the Apostle 187 

S. John Baptist's Day ........ 190 

S. Peter's Day .......... 192 

S. James the Apostle ......... 195 

S. Bartholomew the Apostle ....... 197 

S. Matthew the Apostle 199 

S. Michael and All Angels ........ 202 

S. Luke the Evangelist ........ 204 

S. Simon and S. Jude, Apostles ....... 208 

All Saints' Day .......... 210 

Holy Communion ......... 212 

Holy Baptism .......... 214 

The Catechism . . . . . . . . . . 216 

Confirmation , . 217 

Matrimony , 219 

The Visitation and Communion of the Sick .... 221 

The Burial of the Dead 223 

The Churching of Women ....... 225 

Commlnation .......... 226 

Forms of Prayer to be used at Sea 228 

The Accession .......... 239 

Ordination ........... 231 

Index ............ 235 

The Forms o_f Prayer for Gunpowder Treason^ King Charles 
/., and the Restoratiofi of King Charles II., being now omitted 
from the Book of Co7nmon Prayer, the Poems for those days 
are not printed in this Edition. 



THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. 



His compassions fail not. They are new every morn' 
ing. — Lamentations iii. 22, 23, 

Hues of the rich unfolding morn. 
That, ere the glorious sun be born, 
By some soft touch invisible 
Around his path are taught to swell ; — 

Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, 
That dancest forth at opening day, 
And brushing by with joyous wing, 
Wakenest each little leaf to sing ; — 

Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, 
By which deep grove and tangled stream 
Pay, for soft rains in season given. 
Their tribute to the genial heaven ; — 

Why waste your treasures of delight 
Upon our thankless, joyless sight ; 
Who day by day to sin awake. 
Seldom of Heaven and you partake ? 

Oh, timely happy, timely wise, 
Hearts that with rising morn arise ! 
Eyes that the beam celestial view, 
Which evermore makes all things new!* 

* Revelation xxi, 3. 



MORNING. 

New every morning is the love 
Our wakening and uprising prove ; 
Through sleep and darkness safely brought. 
Restored to life, and power, and thought. 

New mercies, each returning day. 

Hover around us while we pray ; 

New perils past, new sins forgiven, 

New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven. 

If on our daily course our mind 
Be set to hallow all we find. 
New treasures still, of countless price, 
God will provide for sacrifice. 

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be. 
As more of Heaven in each we see : 
Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
Shall dawn on every cross and care. 

As for some dear famiiliar strain 
Untired we ask, and ask again. 
Ever, in its melodious store. 
Finding a spell unheard before ; 

Such is the bliss of souls serene, 

When they have sworn, and steadfast mean, 

Counting the cost, in all t' espy 

Their God, in all themselves deny. 

O could we learn that sacrifice. 
What lights would all around us rise ! 
How would our liearts with wisdom talk 
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk ! 

We need not bid, for cloistered cell. 
Our neighbour and our work farewell. 
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
For sinful man beneath the sky : 



EVENING. 

The trivial round, the common task, 
Would furnish all we ought to ask ; 
Room to deny ourselves ; a road 
To bring us daily nearer God. 

Seek we no more ; content with these. 
Let present rapture, comfort, ease. 
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go 
The secret this of rest below. 

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love 
Fit us for perfect rest above ; 
And help us, this and every day, 
To live more nearly as we pray. 



Abide with us : for it is tozvard evening^ and the day is far 
spent. — S. Luke xxiv. 29. 

'Tis gone, that bright and orb^d blaze. 
Fast fading from our wistful gaze ; 
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight 
The la.st faint pulse of quivering light. 

In darkness and in weariness 
The traveller on his way must press. 
No gleam to watch on tree or tower, 
Whiling away the lonesome hour. 

Sun of my soul ! Thou Saviour dear. 
It is not night if Thou be near : 
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise 
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes ! 



EVENING. 

When round Thy wondrous works belcsw 
My searching rapturous glance I throw, 
Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love, 
In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; — 

Or by the hght Thy words disclose 
Watch Time's full river as it flows. 
Scanning Thy gracious Providence, 
Where not too deep for mortal sense : — 

When with dear friends sweet talk I h^-J, 
And all the flowers of life unfold ; — 
Let not my heart within me burn, 
Except in all I Thee discern. 

When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
For ever on my Saviour's Breast. 

Abide with me from morn till eve, 
For without Thee I cannot live : 
Abide with me when night is nigh. 
For without Thee I dare not die. 

Thou Framer of the light and dark. 
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark 
Amid the howling wintry sea 
We are in port if we have Thee. * 

The Rulers of this Christian land, 
'Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, — 
Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright. 
Let all do all as in Thy sight. 



* Then they willingly received him into the ship : and imme- 
diately the ship was at the land whither they went.— S. John vi. 21. 



. THE FIRST SUN DA Y IN ADVENT, 

Oh, by Thine own sad burthen, borne 
So meekly up the hill of scorn, 
Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cross 
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! 

If some poor wandering child of Thine 
Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine. 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick : enrich the poor 
With blessings from Thy boundless store ; 
Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
Like infants' slumbers, pure and light. 

Come near and bless us when we wake, 
Ere through the world our way we take : 
Till in the ocean of Thy love 
We lose ourselves in Heaven above. 



2Ci)e S'xxsX Sunijas in ^libent* 

Now it is high time to awake out of sleep :for now is our 
Salvation nearer than when we believed. — Romans xiii. ii. 

Awake ! again the Gospel-trump is blown. 
From year to year it swells with louder tone. 
From year to year the signs of wrath 
Are gathering round the Judge's path, 
Strange words fulfilled, and mighty works achieved, 
And truth in all the world both hated and believed. 

Awake ! why linger in the gorgeous town, 
Sworn liegemen of the Cross and thorny crown ? 
Up from your beds of sloth for shame, 
Speed to the eastern mount like flame. 
Nor wonder, should ye find your King in tears. 
Even with the loud Hosanna ringing in His ears. 



6 THE FIRST SUN DA Y IN ADVENT. 

Alas ! no Pxced to rouse them : long ago 
They are gone forth to swell Messiah's show : 
With glittering robes and garlands sweet 
They strew the ground beneath His feet : 
All but your hearts are there — O doom'd to prove 
The arrows winged in Heaven for Faith that will 
not love ! 

Meanwhile He paces through the adoring crowd, 
Calm as the march of some majestic cloud 
That o'er wild scenes of ocean war 
Holds its still course in Heaven afar : 
Even so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on, 
Thou keepest silent watch from Thy triumphal 
throne : 

Even so, the world is thronging round to gaze 
On the dread vision of the latter days, 

Constrained to own Thee, but in heart 

Prepared to take Barabbas' part : 
" Hosanna " now, to-morrow " Crucify," 
The changeful burden still of their rude, lawless 
cry. 

Yet in that throng of selfish hearts untrue 
Thy sad eye rests upon Thy faithful few ; 

Children and child-like souls are there, 

Blind Bartimeus' humble prayer. 
And Lazarus wakened from his four days* sleep 
Enduring life again, that Passover to keep. 

And fast beside the olive-bordered way 
Stands the blest home where Jesus deigned to stay, 
The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere 
And heavenly Contemplation dear, 
Where Martha loved to wait with reverence meet. 
And wiser Mary lingered at Thy sacred feet. 



THE FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT. . 7 

Still through decaying ages as they glide, 
Thou lovest Thy chosen remnant to divide ; 
Sprinkled along the waste of years 
Full many a soft green isle appears : 
Pause v/here we may upon the desert road, 
Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode. 

When withering blasts of error swept the sky, * 
And love's last flower seemed fain to droop and die. 

How sweet, how lone the ray benign 

On sheltered nooks of Palestine ! 
Then to his early home did Love repair, f 
And cheered his sickening heart with his own na- 
tive air. 

Years roll away ! again the tide of crime 
Has swept Thy footsteps from the favoured clime. 
Where shall the holy Cross find rest } 
On a crowned monarch's mailed breast : J 
Like some bright angel o'er the darkling scene. 
Through court and camp he holds his heavenward 
course serene. 

A fouler vision yet ; an age of light. 
Light without love, glares on the aching sight : 
O who can tell how calm and sweet. 
Meek Walton ! shews thy green retreat, 
When wearied with the tale thy times disclose, 
The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose } 

Thus bad and good their several warnings give 
Of His approach, whom none may see and live : 
Faith's ear, with awful still delight. 
Counts them like minute-bells at night, 
Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn, 
While to her funeral pile this aged world is borne. 

* Arianism in the fourth century. 

tSee S. Jerome's Works, i. 123, edit. Erasm. 

X S, Louis in the thirteenth century. 



8 THE SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

But what are Heaven's alarms to hearts that cower 
In wilful slumber, deepening every hour, 
That draw their curtains closer round. 
The nearer swells the trumpet's sound ! 
Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die, 
Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel 
Thee nigh. 



2C!)e SecotiU Sutttias in ^bbent* 

And when these things begin to come to pass, then look 
up, and lift tip your heads ; for your redemption draweth 
nigh. — S. Luke xxi. 28. 

Not till the freezing blast is still, *■: 
Till freely leaps the sparkling rill, 
And gales sweep soft from summer skies. 
As o'er a sleeping infant's eyes 
A mother's kiss ; ere calls like these. 
No sunny gleam awakes the trees, 
Nor dare the tender flowerets show 
Their bosoms to the uncertain glow. 

Why then, in sad and wintry time. 
Her heavens all dark with doubt and crime, 
Why lifts the Church her drooping head, 
As though her evil hour were fled ? 
Is she less wise than leaves of spring, 
Or birds that cower with folded wing ? 
What sees she in this lowering sky 
To tempt her meditative eye ? 

She has a charm, a word of fire, 
A pledge of love that cannot tire ; 
By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars, 
By rushing waves and falling stars, 



THE SECOND SUN DA Y IN ADVENT. 

By every sign her Lord foretold, 
She sees the world is waxing old,* 
And through that last and direst storm 
Descries by faith her Saviour's form. 

Not surer does each tender gem, 
Set in the fig-tree's polished stem, 
Foreshew the summer season bland, 
Than these dread signs Thy mighty hand : 
But oh ! frail hearts, and spirits dark ! 
The season's flight unwarn'd we mark. 
But miss the Judge behind the door.f 
For all the light of sacred lore : 

Yf t is He there : beneath our eaves 
Each sound His wakeful ear receives : 
Hush, idle words, and thoughts of ill, 
Your Lord is listening : peace, be still.J 
Christ watches by a Christian's hearth. 
Be silent, " vain deluding mirth," 
Till in thine altered voice be known 
Somewhat of Resignation's tone. 

But chiefly ye should lift your gaze 
Above the world's uncertain haze. 
And look with calm, unwavering eye 
On the bright fields beyond the sky. 
Ye who your Lord's commission bear, 
His way of mercy to prepare : 
Angels He calls ye : be your strife 
To lead on earth an Angel's life. 



* The world hath lost his youth, and the times begin to wax 
old. — 2 Esdras xiv. lo. 

t See S. James v. g. 

X Ita fabulantur, ut qui sciant Dominum audire. — Tertul. Apolog. 
p. 36, edit. Rigalt. 



THE THIRD SUN DA Y IN ADVENT. 

Think not of rest ; though dreams be sweet. 

Start up, and ply your heavenward feet. 

Is not God's oath upon your head, 

Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed. 

Never again your loins untie. 

Nor let your torches waste and die, 

Till, when the shadows thickest fall, 

Ye hear your Master's midnight call ? 



2Ct)e KW^ SunUag in ^tibent* 

What went ye out into the wilderness to see ? a 7'eed shaken 

with the wind ? But what went ye out for to see ? 

a prophet ? yea, I say unto you ^ and more than a prophet. — 
S. Matthew xi. 7, 9. 

What went ye out to see 

O'er the rude sandy lea. 
Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm, 

Or where Gennesaret's wave 

Delights the flowers to lave. 
That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm ? 

All through the summer night 

Those blossoms red and bright * 
Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the breeze. 

Like hermits watching still 

Around the sacred hill, 
Where erst our Saviour watched upon His knees. 

The Paschal moon above 

Seems like a saint to rove. 
Left shining in the world with Christ alone ; 

Below, the lake's still face 

Sleeps sweetly in the embrace 
Of mountains terraced high with mossy stone. 

* Oleanders : with which the western bank of the lake is said to 
be clothed down to the water's edge. 



THE THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT ii 

Here may we sit, and dream 

Over the heavenly theme, 
Till to our soul the former days return ; 

Till, on the grassy bed 

Where thousands once He fed. 
The world's incarnate Maker we discern. 

O cross no more the main. 

Wandering so wild and vain. 
To count the reeds that tremble in the wind. 

On listless dalliance bound. 

Like children gazing round, 
Who on God's works no seal of Godhead find: 

Bask not in courtly bower, 

Or sun-bright hall of power, 
Pass Babel quick, and seek the holy land ; 

From robes of Tyrian dye 

Turn with undazzled eye 
To Bethlehem's glade or Carmel's haunted strand. 

Or choose thee out a cell 

In Kedron's storied dell, 
Beside the springs of Love, that never die ; 

Among the olives kneel 

The chill night-blast to feel. 
And watch the Moon that saw thy Master's agony. 

Then rise at dawn of day, 

And wind thy thoughtful way 
Where rested once the Temple's stately shade, 

With due feet tracing round 

The city's northern bound. 
To the other holy garden, where the Lord was laid» 

Who thus alternate see 
His death and victory. 
Rising and falling as on angel wings, 



13 THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

They, while they seem to roam, 
Draw daily nearer home. 
Their heart untravelled still adores the King of kings. 

Or, if at home they stay. 

Yet are they, day by day. 
In spirit journeying through the glorious land, 

Not for light Fancy's reed, 

Nor Honour's purple meed, 
Nor gifted Prophet's lore, nor Science' wondrous 
wand. 

But more than Prophet, more 

Than Angels can adore 
With face unveiled, is He they go to seek : 

Blessed be God, Whose grace 

Shews Him in every place 
To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and meek. 



The eyes of them that see shall not be dim^ and the ears 
of thetn that hear shall hearken. — Isaiah xxxii. 3. 

Of the bright things in earth and air 
How little can the heart embrace ! 

Soft shades and gleaming lights are there — 
I know it well, but cannot trace. 

Mine eye unworthy seems to read 

One page of Nature's beauteous book ; 

It lies before me, fair outspread ; 
I only cast a wishful look. 



THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT 13 

I cannot paint to Memory's eye 
The scene, the glance, I dearest love •. 

Unchanged themselves, in me they die, 
Or faint or false their shadows prove. 

In vain, with dull and tuneless ear, 

I linger by soft Music's cell. 
And in my heart of hearts would hear 

What to her own she deigns to tell. 

'Tis misty all, both sight and sound — 
I only know 'tis fair and sweet — 

'Tis wandering on enchanted ground 
With dizzy brow and tottering feet. 

But patience ! there may come a time 
When these dull ears shall scan aright 

Strains that outring Earth's drowsy chime. 
As Heaven outshines the taper's light. 

These eyes that, dazzled now and weak, 
At glancing motes in sunshine wink. 

Shall see the King's * full glory break, 
Nor from the blissful vision shrink : 

In fearless love and hope uncloyed 
For ever on that ocean bright 

Empowered to gaze ; and undestroyed. 
Deeper and deeper plunge in light. 

Though scarcely now their laggard glance 
Reach to an arrow's flight, that day 

They shall behold, and not in trance. 
The region " very far away." 

* Thine eyes shall see the kingin his beauty : they shall behold 
the land that is very far ofE. — Isaiah xxxiii. 17. 



14 THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

If Memory sometimes at our spell 
Refuse to speak, or speak amiss, 

We shall not need her where we dwell 
Ever in sight of all our bliss. 

Meanwhile, if over sea or sky- 
Some tender lights unnoticed fleet. 

Or on loved features dawn and die. 
Unread, to us, their lesson sweet ; 

Yet are there saddening sights around, 
Which Heaven, in mercy, spares us too, 

And we see far in holy ground. 
If duly purged our mental view. 

The distant landscape draws not nigh 
For all our gazing ; but the soul 

That upward looks may still descry 
Nearer, each day, the brightening goal. 

And thou, too curious ear, that fain 
Wouldst thread the maze of Harmony, 

Content thee with one simple strain. 
The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee ; 

Till thou art duly trained, and taught 
The concord sweet of Love divine : 

Then, with that inward Music fraught, 
For ever rise and sing and shine. 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 15 



And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of 
the heavenly host praising God, — S. LUKE ii. 13. 

What sudden blaze of song 

Spreads o'er the expanse of Heaven ? 
In waves of Hght it thrills along, 
The angelic signal given — 
" Glory to God !" from yonder central fire 
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry choir ; 

Like circles widening round 
Upon a clear blue river, 
Orb after orb, the wondrous sound 
Is echoed on for ever : 
" Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, 
"And love towards men of love* — salvation and 
release." 

Yet stay, before thou dare 
To join that festal throng ; 
Listen and mark what gentle air 
First stirred the tide of song ; 
'Tis not, " the Saviour born in David's home. 
To whom for power and health obedient worlds 
should come : " — 

'Tis not, " the Christ the Lord :"— 
With fixed adoring look 
The choir of angels caught the word. 
Nor yet their silence broke : 
But when they heard the sign, where Christ 
should be. 
In sudden light they shone, and heavenly harmony. 

*I have ventured to adopt the reading of the Vulgate, as be- 
ing generally known through Pergolesi's beautiful composition, 
" Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae volun- 
tatis." 



1 5 CHRISTMAS DAY. 

Wrapped in His swaddling bands, 
And in His manger laid, 
The Hope and Glory of all lands 
Is come to the world's aid : 
No peaceful home upon His cradle smiled, 
Guests rudely went and came where slept the royal 
Child. 

But where Thou dwellest. Lord, 
No other thought should be, 
Once duly welcomed and adored, 
How should I part with Thee ? 
Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt 
grace 
The single heart to be Thy sure abiding- place. 

Thee on the bosom laid 
Of a pure virgin mind, 
In quiet ever, and in shade, 

Shepherd and sage may find ; 
They, who have bowed untaught to Nature's 
sway, 
And they, who follow Truth along her star-paved 
way. 

The pastoral spirits first 

Approach Thee, Babe divine. 
For they in lowly thoughts are nursed. 
Meet for Thy lowly shrine : 
Sooner than they should miss where Thou dost 
dwell. 
Angels from Heaven will stoop to guide them to 
Thy cell. 

Still, as the day comes round 
For Thee to be revealed. 
By wakeful shepherds Thou art found, 
Abiding in the field. 
All through the wintry heaven and chill night air. 
In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer. 



S. STEPHEN'S DA Y. 17 

O faint not ye for fear — 

What though your wandering sheep, 
Reckless of what they see and hear. 
Lie lost in wilful sleep ? 
High Heaven in mercy to your sad annoy 
Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy. 

Think on the eternal home 
The Saviour left for you ; 
Think on the Lord most holy, come 
To dwell with hearts untrue : 
So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways, 
And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise. 



S, Ss>Xti^)im'9 Bag, 

He, being full of the Holy Ghost ^ looked up steadfastly 
into heaven^ and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing 
on the right hand of God. — ACTS vii. 55. 

As rays around the source of light 
Stream upward ere he glow in sight. 
And watching by his future flight 

Set the clear heavens on fire ; 
So on the King of Martyrs wait 
Three chosen bands, in royal state, * 
And all earth owns, of good and great, 

Is gathered in that choir. 



* Wheatly on the Common Prayer, c. v. sect. iv. 2. " As there 
are three kinds of martyrdom, the first both in will and deed, which 
is the highest ; the second in will but not in deed ; the third in 
deed but not in will ; so the Church commemorates these martyrs 
in the same order : S. Stephen first, who suffered death both in 
will and deed ; S. John the Evangelist next, who suffered martyr- 
dom in will but not in deed ; the holy Innocents last, who suffer- 
ed in deed but not in will." 



i8 ^. STEPHEN'S DA V. 

One presses on, and welcomes death : 
One calmly yields his willing breath. 
Nor slow, nor hurrying, but in faith 

Content to die or live : 
And some, the darlings of their Lord, 
Play smiling with the flame and sword. 
And ere they speak, to His sure word 

Unconscious witness give. 

Foremost and nearest to His throne, 
By perfect robes of triumph known. 
And likest Him in look and tone, 

The holy Stephen kneels. 
With steadfast gaze, as when the sky 
Flew open to his fainting eye, 
Which, like a fading lamp, flashed high. 

Seeing what death conceals. 

Well might you guess what vision bright 
Was present to his raptured sight. 
Even as reflected streams of light 

Their solar source betray — 
The glory which our GOD surrounds, 
The Son of Man, the atoning wounds- 
He sees them all ; and earth's dull bounds 

Are melting fast away. 

He sees them all — no other view 
Could stamp the Saviour's likeness true. 
Or with His love so deep embrue 

Man's sullen heart and gross — 
" Jesu, do Thou my soul receive : 
Jesu, do Thou my foes forgive : " 
He who would learn that prayer, must live 

Under the holy Cross. 

He, though he seem on earth to move, 
Must glide in air like gentle dove, 



S. JOHN THE EVANGELIST'S DAY. 19 

From yon unclouded depths above 

Must draw his purer breath ; 
Till men behold his angel face 
All radiant with celestial grace,* 
Martyr all o'er, and meet to trace 

The lines of Jesus' death. 



S. Sol)« t$^ 25bangelist»» Bag* 

Peter seeing him saith to jesus, Lord^ and what shall 
this 7nan do ? yesus saith utito him^ If I will that he 
tarry till I come, what is that to thee ? follow thou me. — 
S. John xxL 21, 22. 

" Lord, and what shall this man do ?" 

Askest thou. Christian, for thy friend ? 

If his love for Christ be true, 

Christ hath told thee of his end : 

This is he whom God approves, 

This is he whom Jesus loves. 

Ask not of Him more than this. 

Leave it in his Saviour's breast. 

Whether, early called to bliss. 

He in youth shall find his rest. 

Or armed in his station wait 

Till his Lord be at the gate : 

"Whether in his lonely course 

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, 
Or with Love's supporting force 

Cheat the toil and cheer the way : 
Leave it all in His high hand, 
Who doth hearts as streams command.f 

♦And all that sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him, 
saw his face as it had been the face of an angel. — Acts vi. 15. 

t The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord, as the rivers of 
water; he turneth it whithersoever he will. — Proverbs xxi. i. 



THE HOLY INNOCENTS' DAY. 

Gales from Heaven, if so he will, 
Sweeter melodies can wake 

On the lonely mountain rill 

Than the meeting waters make. 

Who hath the Father and the Son, 

May be left, but not alone. 

Sick or healthful, slave or free, 

Wealthy, or despised and poor— 

What is that to him or thee, 

So his love to Christ endure ? 

When the shore is won at last. 

Who will count the billows past ? 

Only, since our souls will shrink 
At the touch of natural grief. 

When our earthly loved ones sink. 
Lend us. Lord, Thy sure relief ; 

Patient hearts, their pain to see, 

And Thy grace, to follow Thee. 



These were redeemed from among men, being the first 
fruits tmto God and to the Lamb. — Revelation xiv. 4. 

Say, ye celestial guards, who wait 
In Bethlehem, round the Saviour's palace gate, 

Say, who are these on golden wings, 
That hover o'er the new-born King of kings, 

Their palms and garlands telling plain 
That they are of the glorious martyr train, 

Next to yourselves ordained to praise 
His Name, and brighten as on Him they gaze ? 



THE HOLY INNOCENTS' DAY. 21 

But where their spoils and trophies ? where 
The glorious dint a martyr's shield should bear ? 

How chance no cheek among them wears 
The deep-worn trace of penitential tears, 

But all is bright and smiling love, 
As if, fresh-borne from Eden's happy grove, 

They had flown here, their King to see, 
Nor ever had been heirs of dark mortality? 

Ask, and some angel will reply, 
" These, like yourselves, were born to sin and die. 

But ere the poison root was grown, 
God set His seal, and marked them for His own, 

Baptized in blood for Jesus' sake. 
Now underneath the Cross their bed they make, 

Not to be scared from that sure rest 
By frightened mother's shriek, or warrior's waving 
crest." 

Mindful of these, the first-fruits sweet 
Borne by the suffering Church her Lord to greet ; 

Blessed Jesus ever loved to trace 
The " innocent brightness " of an infant's face. 

He raised them in His holy arms, 
He blessed them from the world and all its harms : 

Heirs though they were of sin and shame, 
He blessed them in His own and in His Father's 
Name. 

Then, as each fond, unconscious child 
On the everlasting Parent sweetly smiled, 

(Like infants sporting on the shore. 
That tremble not at Ocean's boundless roar,) 

Were they not present to Thy Thought, 
All souls, that in their cradles Thou hast bought? 

But chiefly these, who died for Thee, 
That Thou might'st live for them a sadder death to 
see. 



22 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 

And next to these, Thy gracious Word 
Was as a pledge of benediction, stored 

For Christian mothers, while they moan 
Their treasured hopes, just born, baptized, and gone. 

Oh joy for Rachel's broken heart ! 
She and her babes shall meet no more to part ; 

So dear to Christ her pious haste 
To trust them in His arms, for ever safe embraced. 

She dares not grudge to leave them there, 
Where to behold them was her heart's first prayer, 

She dares not grieve — but she must weep. 
As her pale placid martyr sinks to sleep, 

Teaching so well and silently 
How, at the shepherd's call, the lamb should die ; 

How happier far than life the end 
Of souls that infant-like beneath their burthen bend. 



So the sun returned ten degrees, by which degrees it was 
gone down. — Isaiah xxxviii. 8. Cf. Joshua x. 13. 

'Tis true ! of old the unchanging sun 
His daily course refused to run ; 

The pale moon hurrying to the west 
Paused at a mortal's call, to aid 
The avenging storm of war, that laid 
Seven guilty realms at once on earth's defiled breast. 

But can it be, one suppliant tear 
Should stay the ever-moving sphere ? 
A sick man's lowly-breathed sigh, 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 23 

When from the world he turns away,* 
And hides his weary eyes to pray, 
Should change your mystic dance, ye wanderers of 

the sky ? 

We too, O Lord, would fain command, 
As then. Thy wonder-working hand. 

And backward force the waves of Time, 
That now so swift and silent bear 
Our restless bark from year to year ; 
Help us to pause and mourn to Thee our tale of crime. 

Bright hopes, that erst the bosom warmed, 
And vows, too pure to be performed. 

And prayers blown wide by gales of care : — 
These, and such faint half-waking dreams. 
Like stormy lights on mountain streams, 
Wavering and broken all, athwart the conscience 
glare. 

How shall we escape the o'erwhelming Past ? 
Can spirits broken, joys o'ercast. 

And eyes that never more may smile : — 
Can these the avenging bolt delay, 
Or win us back one little day 
The bitterness of death to soften and beguile ? 

Father and Lover of our souls ! 
Though darkly round Thine anger rolls. 

Thy sunshine smiles beneath the gloom, 
Thou seek'st to warn us, not confound. 
Thy showers would pierce the hardened ground. 
And win it to give out its brightness and perfume. 



* Then Hezekiah turned his face toward the wall, and prayed 
unto the Lord. — Isaiah xxxviii, 2. 



24 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS, 

Thou smilest on us in wrath, and we, 
Even in remorse, would smile on Thee : 

The tears that bathe our offered hearts. 
We would not have them stained and dim, 
But dropped from wings of Seraphim, 
All glowing with the Light accepted Love imparts. 

Time's waters will not ebb, nor stay, 
Power cannot change them, but Love may ; 

What cannot be, Love counts it done. 
Deep in the heart, her searching view 
Can read where Faith is fixed and true, 
Through shades of setting life can see Heaven's work 
begun, 

O Thou, Who keep'st the Key of Love, 
Open Thy fount, eternal Dove, 

And overflow this heart of mine, 
Enlarging as it fills with Thee, 
Till in one blaze of Charity 
Care and remorse are lost, like motes, in Light 
divine ; 

Till, as each moment wafts us higher, 
By every gush of pure desire. 

And high-breathed hope of joys above ; 
By every sacred sigh we heave. 
Whole years of folly we outlive, 
In His unerring sight, who measures Life by Love. 



THE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST. 25 



2rt)e €:ircumciHioti of €:i)nst. 

In whom also ye are circiimcised with the circutncisioii 
made withotit hands. — Colossians ii. 11. 

The year begins with Thee, 
And Thou beginn'st with woe, 
To let the world of sinners see 
That blood for sin must flow. 

Thine infant cries, O Lord, 
Thy tears upon the breast, 
Are not enough — the legal sword 
Must do its stern behest. 

Like sacrificial wine 
Poured on a victim's head 
Are those few precious drops of Thine, 
Now first to offering led. 

They are the pledge and seal 
Of Christ's unswerving faith 
Given to His Sire, our souls to heal. 
Although it cost His death. 

They to His Church of old, 
To each true Jewish heart, 
In Gospel graces manifold 
Communion blest impart. 

Now of Thy Love we deem 
As of an ocean vast, 
Mounting in tides against the stream 
Of ages gone and past. 

Both theirs and ours Thou art. 
As we and they are Thine ; 
Kings, Prophets, Patriarchs — all have part 
Along the sacred line. 



THE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST. 

By blood and water too 
God's mark is set on Thee, 
That in the every faithful view 
Both covenants might see. 

O bond of union, dear 
And strong as is Thy grace, 
Saints, parted by a thousand year, 
May thus in heart embrace. 

Is there a mourner true, 
Who, fallen on faithless days. 
Sighs for the heart-consoling view 
Of those Heaven deigned to praise } 

In spirit mayst thou meet 
With faithful Abraham here. 
Whom soon in Eden thou shalt greet 
A nursing Father dear. 

Wouldst thou a poet be ? 
And would thy dull heart fain 
Borrow of Israel's minstrelsy 
One high enraptured strain ? 

Come here thy soul to tune, 
Here set thy feeble chant, 
Here, if at all beneath the moon. 
Is holy David's haunt. 

Art thou a child of tears, 
Cradled in care and woe ? 
And seems it hard thy vernal years 
Few vernal joys can shew } 

And fall the sounds of mirth 
Sad on thy lonely heart, 
From all the hopes and charms of earth 
Untimely called to part } 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 27 

Look hear, and hold thy peace : 
The Giver of all good 
Even from the womb takes no release 
From suffering, tears, and blood. 

If thou wouldst reap in Love, 
First sow in holy fear : 
So life a winter's morn may prove 
To a bright endless year. 



S:!)e Sccotttr .Suntias aft«^* €:f)ristmas jEBag 

When the poor aiid needy seek ivater^ and tJiere is none^ 
and their tongue faileth for thirsty I the Lord will hear 
them., I the God of Israel will not forsake them. — Isaiah 
xli. 17. 

And wilt Thou hear the fevered heart 

To Thee in silence cry ? 
And as the inconstant wildfires dart 

Out of the restless eye, 
Wilt Thou forgive the wayward thought, 
By kindly woes yet half untaught 
A Saviour's right, so dearly bought, 

That Hope should never die ? 

Thou wilt : for many a languid prayer 
Has reached Thee from the wild, 

Since the lorn mother, wandering there. 
Cast down her fainting child,^ 

Then stole apart to weep and die. 

Nor knew an angel form was nigh 

To shevi^ soft waters gushing by 
And dewy shadows mild. 

* Hagar. See Genesis xxi. 15. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 

Thou v/ilt — for Thou art Israel's God, 

And Thine unwearied arm 
Is ready yet with Moses' rod 

The hidden rill to charm 
Out of the dry unfathomed deep 
Of sands, that lie in lifeless sleep, 
Save when the scorching w^hirlwinds heap 

Their waves in rude alarm. 

These moments of wild wrath are Thine — 

Thine too the drearier hour 
When o'er the horizon's silent line 

Fond hopeless fancies cower, 
And on the traveller's listless way 
Rises and sets the unchanging day. 
No cloud in heaven to slake its ray, 

On earth no sheltering bower. 

Thou wdlt be there, and not forsake, 

To turn the bitter pool 
Into a bright and breezy lake, 

The throbbing brow to cool : 
Till left awhile with Thee alone 
The wilful heart be fain to own 
That He, by Whom our bright hours shone. 

Our darkness best may rule. 

The scent of water far away 

Upon the breeze is flung : 
The desert pelican to-day 

Securely leaves her young. 
Reproving thankless man, who fears 
To journey on a few lone years ; 
Where on the sand Thy step appears, 

Thy crown in sight is hung. 

Thou, who did'st sit on Jacob's well 
The weary hour of noon,* 

* S. John iv. 6. 



THE EPIPHANY. 29 

The languid pulses Thou canst tell, 

The nerveless spirit tune. 
Thou from Whose Cross in anguish burst 
The cry that owned Thy dying thirst,* 
To Thee we turn, our Last and First, 

Our Sun and soothing Moon. 

From darkness, here, and dreariness 

We ask not full repose, 
Only be Thou at hand, to bless 

Our trial hour of woes. 
Is not the pilgrim's toil o'erpaid 
By the clear rill and palmy shade ? 
And see we not, up Earth's dark glade, 

The gate of Heaven unclose ? 



And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before 
them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. 
Whe?i they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great 
joy. — S. Matthew ii. 9, 10. 

Star of the East, how sweet art Thou, 
Seen in life's early morning sky. 

Ere yet a cloud has dimmed the brow, 
While yet we gaze with childish eye ; 

When father, mother, nursing friend, 
Most dearly loved, and loving best, 

First bid us from their arms ascend. 
Pointing to Thee in Thy sure rest. 

Too soon the glare of earthly day 
Buries, to us. Thy brightness keen. 

And we are left to find our way 
By faith and hope in Thee unseen. 

* S. John xix. 28. 



30 THE EPIPHANY. 

What matter ? if the waymarks sure 
On every side are round us set, 

Soon overleaped, but not obscure ? 
'Tis ours to mark them or forget. 

What matter ? if in calm old age 
Our childhood's star again arise, 

Crowning our lonely pilgrimage 
With all that cheers a wanderer's eyes ? 

Ne'er may we lose it from our sight. 
Till all our hopes and thoughts are led 

To where it stays its lucid flight 
Over our Saviour's lowly bed. 

There, swathed in humblest poverty, 
On Chastity's meek lap enshrined. 

With breathless Reverence waiting by. 
When we our sovereign Master find. 

Will not the long-forgotten glow 
Of mingled joy and awe return. 

When stars above or flowers below 
First made our infant spirits burn ? 

Look on us. Lord, and take our parts 
Even on Thy throne of purity ! 

From these our proud yet grovelling hearts 
Hide not Thy mild, forgiving eye. 

Did not the Gentile Church find grace. 
Our mother dear, this favoured day ? 

y/ith gold and myrrh she sought Thy face. 
Nor didst Thou turn Thy face away. 

She too,* in earlier, purer days, 

Had watched Thee gleaming faint and far- 
But wandering in self-chosen ways 

She lost Thee quite. Thou lovely star. 

* The Patriarchal Church. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 31 

Yet had her father's finger turned 
To Thee her first inquiring glance : 

The deeper shame within her burned, 
When wakened from her wilful trance. 

Behold, her wisest throng Thy gate, 
Their richest, sweetest, purest store 

(Yet owned too worthless and too late) 
They lavish on Thy cottage-floor. 

They give their best — O tenfold shame 

On us their fallen progeny. 
Who sacrifice the bhnd and lame* — 

Who will not wake or fast with thee ! 



Tkey shall spring up as among the grass, as zvillows by the 
water courses. — Isaiah xliv. 4. 

Lessons sweet of spring returning, 
Welcome to the thoughtful heart ! 

May I call ye sense or learning, 

Instinct pure, or Heaven-taught art ? 

Be your title what it may, 

Sweet the lengthening April day, 

While with you the soul is free, 

Ranging wild o'er hill and lea. 

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning, 

To the inward ear devout, 
Touched by light, with heavenly warning 

Your transporting chords ring out. 
Every leaf in every nook. 
Every wave in every brook. 
Chanting with a solemn voice. 
Minds us of our better choice. 

* Malachi i. 2. 



3a FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Needs no show of mountain hoary, 

Winding shore or deepening glen, 
Where the landscape in its glory- 
Teaches truth to wandering men ; 
Give true hearts but earth and sky, 
And some flowers to bloom and die, — 
Homely scenes and simple views 
Lowly thoughts may best infuse. 

See the soft green willow springing 

Where the waters gently pass, 
Every way her free arms flinging 
O'er the moist and reedy grass. 
Long ere winter blasts are fled. 
See her tipped with vernal red» 
And her kindly flower displayed 
Ere her leaf can cast a shade. 

Though the rudest hand assail her, 

Patiently she droops awhile, 
But when showers and breezes hail her, 

Wears again her willing smile. 
Thus I learn Contentment's power 
From the slightest willow bower, 
Ready to give thanks and live 
On the least that Heaven may give. 

If, the quiet brooklet leaving. 

Up the stony vale I wind. 
Haply half in fancy grieving 

For the shades I leave behind, 
By the dusty wayside drear, 
Nightingales with joyous cheer 
Sing, my sadness to reprove, 
Gladlier than in cultured grove. 

Where the thickest boughs are twining 
Of the ereenest darkest tree, 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 33 

There they plunge, the light declining — 

All may hear, but none may see. 
Fearless of the passing hoof. 
Hardly will they fleet aloof ; 
So they live in modest ways, 
Trust entire, and ceaseless praise. 



2r|)e Scronu .SuittJag after V^t Hpi^Ijan^. 

Every 7nan at the begi7tni7ig doth set forth good wine ; 
and wheji men have well drunk, thefi that which is ivoj'se : 
but thou hast kept the good wine until now. — S. John ii. 10. 

The heart of childhood is all mirth : 

We frolic to and fro 
As free and blithe, as if on earth 

Were no such thing as woe. 

But if indeed with reckless faith 
We trust the flattering voice, 

Which whispers, " Take thy fill ere death, 
Indulge thee and rejoice ;" 

Too surely, every setting day. 

Some lost delight we mourn, 

The flowers all die along our way. 
Till we, too, die forlorn. 

Such is the world's gay, garish feast, 

In her first charming bowl 
Infusing all that fires the breast. 

And cheats the unstable soul. 



34 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

And still, as loud the revel swells. 
The fevered pulse beats higher. 

Till the seared taste from foulest wells 
Is fain to slake its fire. 

Unlike the feast of heavenly Love 
Spread at the Saviour's w^ord 

For souls that hear His call, and prove 
Meet for His bridal board. 

Why should we fear youth's draught of joy, 
If pure, would sparkle less ? 

Why should the cup the sooner cloy. 
Which God hath deigned to bless ? 

For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen 
Along each bounding vein, 

Still whispering glorious things unseen ? — 
Faith makes the vision plain. 

The world would kill her soon : but Faith 
Her daring dreams will cherish. 

Speeding her gaze o'er time and death 
To realms where naught can perish. 

Or is it Love, the dear delight 

Of hearts that know no guile. 

That all around see all things bright 
With their own magic smile ? 

The silent joy, that sinks so deep. 

Of confidence and rest. 
Lulled in a Father's arms to sleep. 

Clasped to a Mother's breast ? 

Who, but a Christian, through all life 
That blessing may prolong ? 

Who, through the world's sad day of strife. 
Still chant his morning song ? 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 35 

Fathers may hate us or forsake, 
God's foundling-s then are we : 

Mother on child no pity take,"^ 
But we shall still have Thee. 

We may look home, and seek in vain 

A fond fraternal heart, 
But Christ hath given His promise plain 

To do a Brother's part. 

Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say, 
The heavenward flame annoy : 

The Saviour cannot pass away. 
And with Him lives our joy. 

Ever the richest, tenderest glow 
Sets round the autumnal sun — 

But there sight fails : no heart may know 
The bliss when life is done. 

Such is Thy banquet, dearest Lord ; 

O give us grace, to cast 
Our lot with Thine, to trust Thy word. 

And keep our best till last. 

* Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not 
have compassion on the son of her womb ? yea, they may forget, 
yet will I not forget thee. — Isaiah xlix. 15. 



36 THIRD SUNDA Y AFTER EPIPHANY. 



When Jesus heard it, he ?narvelled, and said to them 
that foUoived, Verily I say unto you, I have fiot found so 
great faith, no, not ifi Israel. — S. Matthew viii. ic. 

I marked a rainbow in the north, 
What time the wild Autumnal sun 

From his dark veil at noon looked forth. 
As glorying in his course half done. 

Flinging soft radiance far and wide 
Over the dusky heaven and bleak hill-side. 

It was a gleam to Memory dear, 

And as I walk and muse apart. 
When all seems faithless round and drear, 

I would revive it in my heart, 
And watch how light can find its way 
To regions farthest from the fount of day. 

Light flashes in the gloomiest sky, 

And Music in the dullest plain, 
For there the lark is soaring high 

Over her flat and leafless reign. 
And chanting in so blithe a tone. 
It shames the weary heart to feel itself alone. 

Brighter than rainbow in the north. 
More cheery than the matin lark, 
Is the soft gleam of Christian worth, 

Which on some holy house we mark ; 
Dear to the pastor's aching heart 
To think, Vv^here'er he looks, such gleam may have 
a part ; 

May dwell, unseen by all but Heaven, 
Like diamond blazing in the mine ; 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 37 

For ever, where such grace is given, 

It fears in open day to shine.* 
Lest the deep stain it owns within 
Break out, and Faith be shanned by the believer's 
sin. 

In silence and afar they wait, 
To find a prayer their Lord may hear : 

Voice of the poor and desolate. 
You best may bring it to His ear. 

Your grateful intercessions rise 
With more than royal pomp, and pierce the skies. 

Happy the soul, whose precious cause, 
You in the sovereign Presence plead — 

" This is the lover of Thy laws,t 

The friend of Thine in fear and need " — 

For to the poor Thy mercy lends 
That solemn style, " Thy nation and Thy friends." 

He too is blest, whose outward eye 

The graceful lines of art may trace. 
While his free spirit, soaring high. 

Discerns the glorious from the base ; 
Till out of dust his magic raise \ 
A home for Prayer and Love, and full harmonious 
Praise. 



* Lord, I am not v/orthy that thou shouldest come under my 
roof. — S. Matthew vili. 8. 

" From the first time that the impressions of reh'gion settled 
deeply in his mind, he used great caution to conceal it ; not only 
in obedience to the rule given by our Saviour, of fasting, praying, 
and giving alms in secret, but from a particular distrust he had of 
himself : for he said he was afraid he should at some time or other 
dosome enormous thing, which, if he were looked on as a very re- 
ligious man, might cast a reproach on the profession of it. and give 
great advantages to impious men to blaspheme the name of God." 
— Burnet's Life of Hale, in Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog. vi. 73. 

t He loveth our nation. — S. Luke vii. 5. 

J He hath built us a synagogue.— S. Luke vii. 5. 



38 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Where far away and high above, 
In maze on maze the tranced sight 

Strays, mindful of that heavenly Love 
Which knows no end in depth or height, 

While the strong breath of Music seems 
To waft us ever on, soaring in blissful dreams. 

What though in poor and humble guise 
Thou here didst sojourn, cottage-born ? 

Yet from Thy glory in the skies 

Our earthly gold Thou dost not scorn. 

For Love delights to bring her best. 
And where Love is, that offering evermore is blest. 

Love on the Saviour's dying head 

Her spikenard drops unblamed may pour, 

May mount His Cross and wrap Him dead 
In spices from the golden shore ;* 

Risen, may embalm His Sacred Name 
With all a Painter's art, and all a Minstrel's flame. 

Worthless and lost our offerings seem, 

Drops in the ocean of His praise ; 
But Mercy with her genial beam 

Is ripening them to pearly blaze, 
To sparkle in His crown above. 
Who welcomes here a child's as there an angel's 
love. 

* S. John xli. 7 ; xix. 30. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 39 



STije jfourtl) .Suntiaj after tfjc IBjJipJaiig* 

When they saw him, they besought Mm that he would 
depart out of their coasts. — S. Matthew viii. 34. 

They know the Almighty's power. 
Who, wakened by the rushing midnight shower. 

Watch for the fitful breeze 
To howl and chafe amid the bending trees, 

Watch for the still white gleam 
To bathe the landscape in a fiery stream, 
Touching the tremulous eye with sense of light 
Too rapid and too pure for all but angel sight. 

They know the Almighty's love, 
Who, when the whirlwinds rock the topmost grove, 

Stand in the shade, and hear 
The tumult with a deep exulting fear, 

How, in their fiercest sway, 
Curbed by some power unseen, they die away, 
Like a bold steed that owns his rider's arm, 
Proud to be checked and soothed by that o'er- 
mastering charm. 

But there are storms within 
That heave the struggling heart with wilder din. 

And there is power and love 
The maniac's rushing frenzy to reprove, 

And when he takes his seat. 
Clothed and in calmness, at his Saviour's feet,* 
Is not the povi^er as strange, the love as blest. 
As when He said. Be still, and ocean sank to rest } 

Woe to the wayward heart, 
That gladlier turns to eye the shuddering start 

* S. Mark v. 15 ; iv. 39. 



40 FOURTH SUNDA Y AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Of Passion in her might, 
Than marks the silent growth of Grace and 
Light ;— 
Pleased in the cheerless tomb 
To linger, while the morning rays illume 
Green lake, and cedar tuft, and spicy glade, 
Shaking their dewy tresses now the storm is laid. 

The storm is laid ; and now 
In His meek power He climbs the mountain's 
brow, 
Who bade the waves go sleep. 
And lashed the vexed fiends to their yawning deep. 

How on a rock they stand, 
Who watch His eye, and hold His guiding hand I 
Not half so fixed amid her vassal hills, 
Rises the holy pile that Kedron's valley fills. 

And wilt thou seek again 
Thy howling waste, thy charnel-house and chain. 

And with the demons be, 
Rather than clasp thine own Deliverer's knee ? 

Sure 'tis no Heaven- bred awe 
That bids thee from His heahng touch withdraw. 
The world and He are struggling in thine heart. 
And in thy reckless mood thou bidst thy Lord depart. 

He, merciful and mild, 
As erst, beholding, loves His wayward child ; 

When souls of highest birth 
Waste their impassioned might on dreams of earth, 

He opens Nature's book. 
And on His glorious Gospel bids them look, 
Till by such chords, as rule the choirs above. 
Their lawless cries are tuned to hymns of perfect 
Love. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 41 



W^z jFifti) Suntras after tije 23|)iji!)ans* 



Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot 
save ; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear : but your 
iniquities have separated between you and your God. — 
Isaiah lix. i, 2. 



" Wake, arm divine ! awake, 

Eye of the only Wise ! 
Now for Thy glory's sake, 
Saviour and God, arise. 
And may Thine ear, that sealed seems, 
In pity mark our mournful themes !" 

Thus in her lonely hour 

Thy Church is fain to cry, 
As if Thy love and power 
Were vanished from her sky ; 
Yet God is there, and at His side 
He triumphs Who for sinners died. 

Ah ! 'tis the world enthralls 

The Heaven-betrothed breast : 
The traitor Sense recalls 
The soaring soul from rest. 
That bitter sigh was all for earth, 
For glories gone, and vanished mirth. 

Age would to youth return. 

Farther from Heaven would be. 
To feel the wildfire burn. 
On idolizing knee 
Again to fall, and rob Thy shrine 
Of hearts, the right of Love divine. 



42 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Lord of this erring flock ! 

Thou Whose soft showers distil 
On ocean waste or rock, 
Free as on Hermon's hill, 
Do Thou our craven spirits cheer, 
And shame away the selfish tear. 

'Twas silent all and dead* 

Beside the barren sea, 
Where Philip's steps were led — 
Led by a voice from Thee ; 
He rose and went, nor asked Thee why, 
Nor stayed to heave one faithless sigh ; 

Upon his lonely way 

The high-born traveller came, 
Reading a mournful lay 

Of " One Who bore our shame,t 
Silent Himself, His Name untold, 
And yet His glories were of old." 

To muse what Heaven might mean 

His wandering brow he raised, 
And met an eye serene 

That on him watchful gazed. 
No hermit e'er so welcome crossed 
A child's lone path in woodland lost. 

Now wonder turns to Love ; 
The scrolls of sacred lore 
No darksome mazes prove ; 
The desert tires no more : 
They bathe where holy waters flow, 
Then on their way rejoicing go. 

* See Acts viii. 26-40. t Isaiah liii. 6-8. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 43 

They part to meet in Heaven : 

But of the joy they share, 
Absolving and forgiven, 

The sweet remembrance bear. 
Yes — mark him well, ye cold and proud, 
Bewildered in a heartless crowd, 

Starting and turning pale 

At Rumour's angry din — 
No storm can nov/ assail 
The charm he wears within, 
Rejoicing still, and doing good. 
And with the thought of God imbued. 

No glare of high estate. 

No gloom of woe or want, 
The radiance can abate 

Where Heaven delights to haunt ; 
Sin only hides the genial ray, 
And, round the Cross, makes night of day. 

Then weep it from thy heart ; 

So mayst thou duly learn 
The intercessor's part. 

Thy prayers and tears may earn 
For fallen souls some healing breath, 
Ere they have died the Apostate's death. 



44 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY, 



STije S!):t!) SunUag afUr t|)e 2S|)ipt)an2, 

Beloved^ now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet 
appear what we shall be : but we know that, when he shall 
appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see hint as he 
is.—i S. John iii. 2, 

There are, who darkhng and alone. 
Would wish the weary night were gone, 
Though dawning morn should only shew 
The secret of their unknown woe : 
Who pray for sharpest throbs of pain 
To ease them of doubt's galling chain : 
"Only disperse the cloud," they cry, 
** And if our fate be death, give light and let us die," 

Unwise I deem them. Lord, unmeet 
To profit by Thy chastenings sweet, 
For Thou wouldst have us linger still 
Upon the verge of good or ill. 
That on Thy guiding hand unseen 
Our undivided hearts may lean. 
And this our frail and foundering bark 
Glide in the narrow wake of Thy beloved ark. 

'Tis so in war — the champion true 
Loves victory more, when dim in view 
He sees her glories gild afar 
The dusky edge of stubborn war. 
Than if the untrodden, bloodless field 
The harvest of her laurels yield ; 
Let not my bark in calm abide, 
But win her fearless way against the chafing tide. 

'Tis so in love — the faithful heart 
From her dim vision would not part, 
When first to her fond gaze is given 
That purest spot in Fancy's heaven, 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 45 

For all the gorgeous sky beside, 
Though pledged her own and sure to abide : 
Dearer than every past noon-day 
That twilight gleam to her, though faint and far 

away. 

So have I seen some tender flower 
Prized above all the vernal bower. 
Sheltered beneath the coolest shade, 
Embosomed in the greenest glade. 
So frail a gem, it scarce may bear 
The playful touch of evening air ; 
When hardier grown we love it less. 
And trust it from our sight, not needing our caress. 

And wherefore is the sweet springtide 
Worth all the changeful year beside ? 
The last-born babe, why lies its part 
Deep in the mother's inmost heart ? 
But that the Lord and source of love 
Would have His weakest ever prove 
Our tenderest care — and most of all 
Our frail immortal souls, His work and Satan's thrall. 

So be it. Lord ; I know it best. 
Though not as yet this wayward breast 
Beat quite in answer to Thy voice, 
Yet surely I have made my choice ; 
I know not yet the promised bliss. 
Know not if I shall win or miss ; 
So doubting, rather let me die. 
Than close with aught beside, to last eternally. 

What is the heaven we idly dream ? 
The self-deceiver's dreary theme, 
A cloudless sun that softly shines. 
Bright maidens and unfailing vines, 



46 SIXTH SUN DA Y AFTER EPIPHANY. 

The warrior's pride, the hunter's mirth. 
Poor fragments all of this low earth : 
Such as in sleep would hardly soothe 
A soul that once had tasted of immortal Truth. 

What is the Heaven our God bestows ? 
No Prophet yet, no Angel knows ; 
Was never yet created eye 
Could see across Eternity ; 
Not Seraph's wing for ever soaring 
Can pass the flight of souls adoring. 
That nearer still and nearer grov/ 
To the unapproached Lord, once m.ade for them so 
low. 

Unseen, unfelt their earthly growth. 
And self-accused of sin and sloth 
They live and die ; their names decay, 
Their fragrance passes quite away ; 
Like violets in the freezing blast. 
No vernal steam around they cast, — 
But they shall flourish from the tomb. 
The breath of God shall wake them into odorous 
bloom. 

Then on the incarnate Saviour's breast, 
The fount of sweetness they shall rest, 
Their spirits every hour imbued 
More deeply with His precious Blood. 
But peace — still voice and closed eye 
Suit best with hearts beyond the sky. 
Hearts training in their low abode, 
Daily to lose themselves in hope to find their God. 



SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 47 



W^z Sunlias calleD Septuasesima. 

The i7ivisible things 0/ hhn from the creation of the world 
are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are 
made. — Romans i. 20. 

There is a Book, who runs may read. 
Which heavenly Truth imparts, 

And all the lore its scholars need. 
Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 

The works of God above, below, 

Within us and around. 
Are pages in that Book, to shew 

How God himself is found. 

The glorious sky embracing all 

Is like the Maker's love, 
Wherewith encompassed, great and small 

In peace and order move. 

The Moon above, the Church below, 

A wondrous race they run. 
But all their radiance, all their glow, 

Each borrows of its Sun. 

The Saviour lends the light and heat 

That crowns His holy hill ; 
The Saints, like stars, around His seat, 

Perform their courses still.* 

The Saints above are stars in Heaven — 
What are the saints on earth ? 

Like trees they stand whom God has given,t 
Our Eden's happy birth. 

* Daniel xii. 3. t Isaiah ix. 21. 



48 SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

Faith is their fixed unswerving root, 
Hope their unfading flower, 

Fair deeds of Charity their fruit, 
The glory of their bower. 

The dew of Heaven is like Thy grace,* 

It steals in silence down ; 
But where it lights, the favoured place 

By richest fruits is known. 

One Name above all glorious names 
With its ten thousand tongues 

The everlasting sea proclaims. 
Echoing angelic songs. 

The raging Fire,t the roaring Wind, 
Thy boundless power display : 

But in the gentler breeze we find 
Thy Spirit's viewless way.t 

Two worlds are ours : 'tis only Sin 

Forbids us to descry 
The mystic heaven and earth within, 

Plain as the sea and sky. 

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see 
And love this sight so fair. 

Give me a heart to find out Thee, 
And read Thee everywhere. 

* Psalm Ixviii. 9. t Hebrews xii. 29. % S. John iii. 8. 



SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 49 



STp Suntrag calletr <Sc):aflesima. 

So he drove out the man ; and he placed at the east of 
the garden of Eden Cherubim, and a flaming sword which 
turned every way., to keep the way of the tree of life. — 
Genesis iii. 24. Cf vi. 

Foe of mankind ! too bold thy race : 

Thou runn'st at such a reckless pace, 
Thine own dire work thou surely wilt confound 

'Twas but one little drop of sin 

We saw this morning enter in, 
And lo ! at eventide the world is drowned. 



See here the fruit of wandering eyes. 

Of worldly longings to be wise, 
Of Passion dwelling on forbidden sweets : 

Ye lawless glances, freely rove ; 

Ruin below and wrath above 
Are all that now the wiidering fancy meets. 

Lord, when in some deep garden glade. 

Of Thee and of myself afraid. 
From thoughts like these among the bowers I hide, 

Nearest and loudest then of all 

I seem to hear the Judge's call : — 
" Where art thou, fallen man } come forth, and be 
thou tried." 

Trembling before Thee as I stand, 

Where'er I gaze on either hand 
The sentence is gone forth, the ground is cursed : 

Yet mingled with the penal shower 

Some drops of balm in eveiy bower 
Steal down like April dews, that softest fall and first. 



50 SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

If filial and maternal love* 

Memorial of our guilt must prove, 
If sinful babes in sorrow must be born. 

Yet, to assuage her sharpest throes, 

The faithful mother surely knows. 
This was the way Thou earnest to save the world 
forlorn. 

If blessed wedlock may not blessf 

Without some tinge of bitterness 
To dash her cup of joy, since Eden lost. 

Chaining to earth with strong desire 

Hearts that would highest else aspire, 
And o'er the tenderer sex usurping ever most ; 

Yet by the light of Christian lore 

'Tis blind Idolatry no more, 
But a sweet help and pattern of true Love, 

Shewing how best the soul may cling 

To her immortal Spouse and King, 
How He should rule, and she with full desire 
approve. 

If niggard Earth her treasures hide.l 
To all but labouring hands denied. 

Lavish of thorns and worthless weeds alone, 
The doom is half in mercy given 
To train us in our way to Heaven, 

And shew our lagging souls how Glory must be 
won. 

If on the sinner's outward frame § 
God hath impressed His mark of blame, 
And even our bodies shrink at touch of light, 

* In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children. — Genesis iii. i6, 
+ Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over 
thee. — Genesis iii. i6. 
% Cursed is the ground for thy sake. — Genesis iii. 17. 
§ I was afraid, because I was naked. — Genesis iii. 10, 



QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 51 

Yet mercy hath not left us bare : 
The very weeds we daily wear* 
Are to faith's eye a pledge of God's forgiving might. 

And oh ! if yet one arrow more,t 

The sharpest of the Almighty's store, 
Tremble upon the string — a sinner's death — 

Art Thou not by to soothe and save, 

To lay us gently in the grave. 
To close the weary eye and hush the parting breath ? 

Therefore in sight of man bereft 

The happy garden still was left, 
The fiery sword that guarded shewed it too, 

Turning all ways, the world to teach. 

That though as yet beyond our reach, 
Still in its place the tree of life and glory grew. 



2r|)e SunlJag calUtr ^umquaBesima. 

/ do set my boiu in the cloud, and it shall be for a token 
of a covenant between me and the earth. — Genesis ix. 13. 

Sweet Dove ! the softest, steadiest plume 

In all the sunbright sky. 
Brightening in ever-changeful bloom 

As breezes change on high ; — 

Sweet Leaf ! the pledge of peace and mirth, 
"Long sought, and lately won," 

Blessed increase of reviving Earth, 
When first it felt the Sun ; — 

* The Lord God made coats of skins and clothed them. — Genesis 
iii. 21. 
t Thou shalt surely die. — Genesis ii. 17. 



52 QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

Sweet Rainbow ! pride of summer days, 
High set at Heaven's command. 

Though into drear and dusky haze 
Thou melt on either hand ; — 

Dear tokens of a pardoning God, 

We hail ye, one and all, 
As when our fathers w^alked abroad, 

Freed from their twelve months' thrall. 

How joyful from the imprisoning ark 
On the green earth they spring ! 

Not blither, after showers, the lark 
Mounts up with glistening wing. 

So home-bound sailors spring to shore 

Two oceans safely past ; 
So happy souls, when life is o'er. 

Plunge in the empyreal vast. 

What wins their first and fondest gaze 

In all the blissful field, 
And keeps it through a thousand days ? j 

Love face to face revealed : 

Love imaged in that cordial look 

Our Lord in Eden bends 
On souls that sin and earth forsook 

In time to die His friends. 

And what most welcome and serene 
Dawns on the Patriarch's eye. 

In all the emerging hills so green, 
In all the brightening sky } 

What but the gentle rainbow's gleam, 
Soothing the wearied sight, 

That cannot bear the solar beam, 
With soft, undazzling light ? 



ASH WEDNESDAY. 53 

Lord, if our fathers turned to Thee 

With such adoring gaze, 
Wondering frail man Thy hght should see 

Without Thy scorching blaze ; 

Where is our love, and where our hearts — 

We who have seen Thy Son, 
Have tried Thy Spirit's winning arts, 

And yet we are not won ? 

The Son of God in radiance beamed 

Too bright for us to scan. 
But we may face the rays that streamed 

From the mild Son of Man. 

There, parted into rainbow hues. 

In sweet harmonious strife. 
We see celestial love diffuse 

Its light o'er Jesus' life. 

God, by His bow, vouchsafes to write 

This truth in Heaven above ; 
As every lovely hue is Light, 

So every grace is Love. 



When thou fastest, anotJit thine head, and wash thy face ; 
that thou appear Jiot tcnto men to fast, btit unto thy Father 
which is in secret. — S. Matthew vi. 17, 18. 

" Yes — deep within, and deeper yet 

The rankling shaft of conscience hide. 
Quick let the swelling eye forget 

The tears that in the heart abide. 
Calm be the voice, the aspect bold, 

No shuddering pass o'er lip or brow. 
For why should Innocence be told 

The pangs that guilty spirits bow } 



54 ASH WEDNESDAY. 

" The loving eye that watches thine 

Close as the air that wraps thee round — 
Why in thy sorrow should it pine, 

Since never of thy sin it found ? 
And wherefore should the heathen see* 

What chains of darkness thee enslave, 
And mocking say, Lo, this is he 

Who owned a God that could not save ?" 

Thus oft the mourner's wayward heart 

Tempts him to hide his grief and die. 
Too feeble for Confession's smart, 

Too proud to bear a pitying eye ; 
How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall 

On bosoms waiting to receive 
Our sighs, and gently whisper all ! 

They love us — will not God forgive ? 

Else let us keep our fast within, 

Till Heaven and we are quite alone. 
Then let the grief, the shame, the sin. 

Before the mercy-seat be thrown. 
Between the porch and altar weep. 

Unworthy of the holiest place. 
Yet hoping near the shrine to keep 

One lowly cell in sight of grace. 

Nor fear lest sympathy should fail : 

Hast thou not seen, in night-hours drear, 
When racking thoughts the heart assail. 

The glimmering stars by turns appear, 
And from the eternal home above 

With silent news of mercy steal } 
So Angels pause on tasks of love. 

To look where sorrowing sinners kneel. 

* Wherefore should they saj' among the people, Where is their 
God ? — Joel ii. 17. 



FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. S5 

Or if no Angel pass that way, 

He who in secret sees, perchance 
May bid His own heart- warming ray 

Toward thee stream with kindlier glance. 
As when upon His drooping head 

His Father's light was poured from Heaven, 
What time, unsheltered and unfed,* 

Far in the wild His steps were driven. 

High thoughts were with Him in that hour. 

Untold, unspeakable on earth — 
And who can stay the soaring power 

Of spirits weaned from worldly mirth. 
While far beyond the sound of praise 

With upward eye they float serene. 
And learn to bear their Saviour's blaze 

When Judgment shall undraw the screen ? 



2ri)e jFirst .Suntraj in 2lent, 

Haste thee, escape thither ; for I cannot do any thing 
till thou be co7ne thither. Therefore the name of the city 
was called Zoar. — Genesis xix. 22. 

" Angel of wrath ! why linger in mid air, 

While the devoted city's cry 
Louder and louder swells ? and canst thou spare 

Thy full-charged vial standing by ?" 
Thus, with stern voice, unsparing Justice pleads : 

He hears her not — with softened gaze 
His eye is following where sweet Mercy leads, 
And till she gives the sign, his fury stays. 

Guided by her, along the mountain road, 
Far through the twilight of the morn, 

With hurrying footsteps from the accursed abode 
He sees the holy household borne : 

* S. Matthew iv. i. 



56 FIRST SUNDA V IN LENT. 

Angels, or more, on either hand are nigh, 

To speed them o'er the tempting plain, 
Lingering in heart, and with frail sidelong eye 
Seeking how near they may unharmed remain. 

" Ah ! wherefore gleam those upland slopes so fair ? 

And why, through every woodland arch. 
Swells yon bright vale, as Eden rich and rare, 

Where Jordan winds his stately march ; 
If ail must be forsaken, ruined all. 

If God have planted but to burn ? — 
Surely not yet the avenging shower will fall. 
Though to my home for one last look I turn." 

Thus while they waver, surely long ago 

They had provoked the withering blast. 

But that the merciful Avengers know 

Their frailty well, and hold them fast. 

" Haste, for thy life escape, nor look behind !" 
Ever in thrilling sounds like these 

They check the wandering eye, severely kind. 

Nor let the sinner lose his soul at ease. 

And when, o'erv/earied with the steep ascent. 

We for a nearer refuge crave. 
One little spot of ground in mercy lent. 

One hour of home before the grave, 
Oft in His pity o'er His children weak. 

His hand withdraws the penal fire. 
And where we fondly cling, forbears to wreak 
Full vengeance, till our hearts are weaned entire. 

Thus, by the merits of one righteous man. 
The Church, our Zoar, shall abide. 

Till she abuse, so sore, her lengthened span. 
Even Mercy's self her face must hide. 

Then, onward yet a step, thou hard-won soul ; 
Though in the Church thou know thy place, 

The mountain farther lies — there seek thy goal, 

There breathe at large, o'erpast thy dangerous race. 



- SECOND SUNDA Y IN LENT. 57 

Sweet is the smile of home ; the mutual look 
When hearts are of each other sure ; 

Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook, 
The haunt of all affections pure ; 

Yet in the world even these abide, and we 
Above the world our calling" boast : 

Once gain the mountain-top, and thou art free : 

Till then, who rest, presume ; who turn to look, are 
lost. 



2r|)e .SeconU Suntia^ in Sent* 

And when Esau heard the words of his father^ he cried 
ivith a great atid exceedijig bitter cry, arid said unto his 
father, Bless me, even me also, O my father. — Genesis 
xxvii. 34. {Cf. Hebrews xii. 17. He found no place of 
repentance^ though he sought it carefully with tears, y^ 

" And is there in God's world so drear a place 
Where the loud bitter cry is raised in vain ? 

Where tears of penance come too late for grace. 
As on the uprooted flower the genial rain?" 

'Tis even so : the sovereign Lord of souls 

Stores in the dungeon of His boundless realm 

Each bolt, that o'er the sinner vainly rolls. 
With gathered wrath the reprobate to whelm. 

Will the storm hear the sailor's piteous cry,t 

Taught to mistrust, too late, the tempting wave. 

When all around he sees but sea and sky, 
A God in anger, a self-chosen grave ? 

* The author earnestly hopes, that nothing In these stanzas will 
be understood to express any opinion as to the general efficacy of 
what is called " a death-bed repentance." Such questions are best 
left in the merciful obscurit}'- with which Scripture has enveloped 
them. Esau's probation, as far as his birthright was concerned, 
was quite over when he uttered the cry in the text. His despond- 
ency, therefore, is not parallel to anj^thing on this side the grave. 

t Cf. Bp. Butler's Analog^', pp. 54 64, ed. 1736. 



58 SECOND SUNDA Y IN LENT. 

Or will the thorns, that strew intemperance' bed, 
Turn with a wish to down ? will late remorse 

Recall the shaft the murderer's hand has sped, 
Or from the guiltless bosom turn its course ? 

Then may the unbodied soul in safety fleet 

Through the dark curtains of the world above, 

Fresh from the stain of crime ; nor fear to meet 
The God, Whom here she would not learn to 
love: 

Then is there hope for such as die unblest, 
That angel wings may waft them to the shore, 

Nor need the unready virgin strike her breast. 
Nor wait desponding round the bridegroom's 
door. 

But where is then the stay of contrite hearts ? 

Of old they leaned on Thy eternal Word, 
But with the sinner's fear their hope departs. 

Fast linked as Thy great Name to Thee, O 
Lord : 

That Name, by which Thy faithful oath is past, 
That VN^e should endless be, for joy or woe : 

And if the treasures of Thy wrath could waste. 
Thy lovers must their promised Heaven forego. 

But ask of elder days, earth's vernal hour, 
When in familiar talk God's voice was heard, 

When at the Patriarch's call the fiery shower 
Propitious o'er the turf-built shrine appeared. 

Watch by our father Isaac's pastoral door — 
The birthright sold, the blessing lost or won, 

Tell, Heaven has wrath that can relent no more, 
The Grave, dark deeds that cannot be undone. 



THIRD SUN DA Y IN LENT. 59 

We barter life for pottage ; sell true bliss 

For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown ; 

Thus, Esau-like, our Father's blessing miss, 

Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown. 

Our faded crown, despised and flung aside, 
Shall on some brother's brow immortal bloom, 

No partial hand the blessing may misguide ; 

No flattering fancy change our Monarch's doom : 

His righteous doom, that meek true-hearted Love 
The everlasting birthright should receive. 

The softest dews drop on her from above,'^' 

The richest green her mountain garland weave : 

Her brethren, mightiest, wisest, eldest born. 
Bow to her sway, and move at her behest : 

Isaac's fond blessing may not fall on scorn. 

Nor Balaam's curse on Love which God hath 
blest. 



5ri)e ffi:j)irti SuntittB in Sent, 

When a strojig vtan armed keepeth his palace, his goods 

are in peace ; but when a stronger than he shall come upon 

him^ a7id overco7ne him^ he taketh from him all his armour 

■ zvherein he trusted, and divideth his spoils. — S. Luke xi, 

21, 22, 

See Lucifer Hke lightning fall. 

Dashed from his throne of pride ; 
While, answering Thy victorious call, 
The Saints his spoils divide ; 
This world of Thine, by him usurped too long. 
Now opening all her stores to heal Thy servants' 
wrong. 

* Genesis xxvii. 27, 28. 



6o THIRD SUNDA Y IN LENT. 

So when the first-born of Thy foes 

Dead in the darkness lay, 
When Thy redeemed at midnight rose 
And cast their bonds away, 
The orphaned realm threw wide her gates, and 
told 
Into freed Israel's lap her jewels and her gold. 

And when their wondrous march was o'er, 

And they had won their homes, 
Where Abraham fed his flock of yore, 
Among their father's tombs ; — 
A land that drinks the rain of heaven at will. 
Whose waters kiss the feet of many a vine-clad hill; — 

Oft as they watched, at thoughtful eve, 

A gale from bowers of balm 
Sweep o'er the billowy corn, and heave 
The tresses of the palm, 
Just as the lingering Sun had touched with gold, 
Far o'er the cedar shade, some tower of giants old ; 

It was a fearful joy, I ween, 

To trace the Heathen's toil. 
The limpid wells, the orchards green 
Left ready for the spoil, 
The household stores untouched, the roses bright 
Wreath'd o'er the cottage walls in garlands of 
delight. 

And now another Canaan yields 

To Thine all-conquering ark ; — 
Fly from the " old poetic " fields,* 
Ye Paynim shadows dark ! 
Immortal Greece, dear land of glorious lays, 
Lo ! here the '"unknown God " of thy unconscious 
praise ! 

* Where each old poetic mountain 

Inspiration breathed around. — Gray. 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 6i 

The olive wreath, the ivied wand, 
"The sword in myrtles drest," 
Each legend of the shadowy strand 
Now wakes a vision blest ; 
As little children lisp, and tell of Heaven, 
So thoughts beyond their thought to those high 
Bards were given. 

And these are ours : Thy partial grace 

The tempting treasure lends : 
These relics of a guilty race 
Are forfeit to Thy friends : 
What seemed an idol hymn, now breathes of 
Thee, 
Tuned by Faith's ear to some celestial melody. 

There's not a strain to Memory dear,* 

Nor flower in classic grove, 
There's not a sweet note warbled here. 
But minds us of Thy Love, 
O Lord, our Lord, and spoiler of our foes, 
There is no light but Thine : with Thee all beauty 
glows. 



2ri)e JFourtl) .Suiitrag ixi Sent, 

yoseph made haste ; for his bowels did yearn tipon his 
brother : ajid he sought where to weep ; and he eJitered 
into his chamber., and wept there, — Genesis xliii, 30. 

There stood 7io ma?i with him, while Joseph made hiin- 
self knoimi unto his brethre^i. — Genesis xlv. i. 

When Nature tries her finest touch, 

Weaving her vernal wreath, 
Mark ye, how close she veils her round, 
Not to be traced by sight or sound, 

Nor soiled by ruder breath ? 

* See Burns' Works, i. 293, Dr. Currie's edition. 



63 FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Who ever saw the earliest rose 

First open her sweet breast ? 
Or, when the summer sun goes down, 
The first soft star in evening's crown 
Light up her gleaming crest ? 

Fondly w^e seek the dawning bloom 

On features wan and fair, — 
The gazing eye no change can trace. 
But look away a little space, 

Then turn, and, lo ! 'tis there. 



But there's a sweeter flower than e'er 

Blushed on the rosy spray — 
A brighter star, a richer bloom 
Than e'er did western heaven illume 
At close of summer day. 

'Tis Love, the last best gift of Heaven ; 

Love gentle, holy, pure : 
But tenderer than a dove's soft eye. 
The searching sun, the open sky, 

She never could endure. 

Even human Love will shrink from sight 

Here in the coarse rude earth : 
How then should rash intruding glance 
Break in upon her sacred trance 
Who boasts a heavenly birth ? 

So still and secret is her growth. 

Ever the truest heart. 
Where deepest strikes her kindly root 
For hope or joy, for flower or fruit. 

Least knows its happy part. 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 63 

God only, and good Angels, look 

Behind the bhssful screen — 
As when, triumphant o'er His woes, 
The Son of God by moonlight rose, 

By all but Heaven unseen : 

As when the holy Maid beheld 

Her risen Son and Lord : 
Thought has not colours half so fair 
That she to paint that hour may dare, 

In silence best adored. 

The gracious Dove, that brought from Heaven 

The earnest of our bliss, 
Of many a chosen witness telling, 
On many a happy vision dwelling, 

Sings not a note of this. 

So, truest image of the Christ, 

Old Israel's long-lost son. 
What time, with sweet forgiving cheer. 
He called his conscious brethren near, 

Would weep with them alone. 

He could not trust his melting soul 

But in his Maker's sight — 
Then why should gentle hearts and true 
Bare to the rude world's withering view 

Their treasure of delight ! 

No— let the dainty rose awhile 

Her bashful fragrance hide — 
Rend not her silken veil too soon. 
But leave her, in her own soft moon, 

To flourish and abide. 



64 FIFTH SUNDA Y IN LENT. 



2ri)e jFi'tt]) Suntjas in 3lent* 

And Moses said, I will now turn aside^ and see this great 
sights why the bush is not burnt. — Exodus iii. 3. 

The historic Muse, from age to age, 
Through many a waste heart-sickening page 

Hath traced the works of Man : 
But a celestial call to-day 
Stays her, like Moses, on her way, 

The works of God to scan. 



Far seen across the sandy wild. 
Where, like a solitary child. 

He thoughtless roamed and free. 
One towering thorn * was wrapt in flame- 
Bright without blaze it went and came : 

Who would not turn and see ? 

Along the mountain ledges green 
The scattered sheep at will may glean 

The Desert's spicy stores : 
The while, with undivided heart. 
The shepherd talks with God apart, 

And, as he talks, adores. 

Ye too, who tend Christ's wildering flock, 
Well may ye gather round the rock 

That once was Sion's hill, 
To watch the fire upon the mount 
Still blazing, like the solar fount, 

Yet unconsuming still. 

* " Seneh :" said to be a sort of Acacia. 



FIFTH SUN DA V IN LENT. 65 

Caught from that blaze by wrath divine, 
Lost branches of the once-loved vine, 

Now withered, spent, and sere. 
See Israel's sons, like glowing brands, 
Tost wildly o'er a thousand lands 

For twice a thousand year. 

God will not quench nor slay them quite, 
But lifts them like a beacon light 

The apostate Church to scare ; 
Or like pale ghosts that darkling roam. 
Hovering around their ancient home. 

But find no refuge there. 

Ye blessed Angels ! if of vou 
There be, who love the ways to view 

Of Kings and Kingdoms here ; 
(And sure, 'tis worth an Angel's gaze, 
To see, throughout that dreary maze, 

God teaching love and fear :) 

Oh ! say, in all the bleak expanse. 
Is there a spot to win your glance. 

So bright, so dark as this } 
A hopeless faith, a homeless race, 
Yet seeking the most holy place, 

And owning the true bliss ! 

Salted with fire they seem,* to shew 
How spirits lost in endless v/oe 

May undecaying live. 
Oh, sickening thought ! yet hold it fast 
Long as this glittering world shall last, 

Or sin at heart survive. 

* S. Mark ix. 49. 



66 FIFTH SUN DA Y IN LENT. 

And hark ! amid the flashing fire, 
Mingling with tones of fear and ire, 

Soft Mercy's undersong — 
'Tis Abraham's God Who speaks so loud, 
His people's cries have pierced the cloud, 

He sees. He sees their wrong ; 

He is come down to break their chain ; * 
Though never more on Sion's fane 

His visible ensign wave ; 
'Tis Sion, wheresoe'er they dwell. 
Who, with His own true Israel, 

Shall own Him strong to save. 

He shall redeem them one by one. 
Where'er the world-encircling sun 

Shall see them meekly kneel : 
All that He asks on Israel's part, 
Is only, that the captive heart 

Its woe and burthen feel. 

Gentiles ! with fixed yet awful eye 
Turn ye this page of mystery. 

Nor slight the warning sound : 
'• Put off thy shoes from off thy feet — 
The place where man his God shall meet, 

Be sure, is holy ground." 

* Exodus ill. 7. 



SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE EASTER. 67 



STftc Suntnas XizyX before 3Eastet, or ^alm Suntiag, 

And he answered and said unto them^ I tell you that, if 
these should hold their peace., the stones ivould immediately 
cry out. — S. Luke xix. 40. 

Ye whose hearts are beating high 
With the pulse of Poesy, 
Heirs of more than royal race, 
Framed by Heaven's peculiar grace, 
God's own work to do on earth, 

(If the word be not too bold,) 
Giving virtue a new birth. 

And a life that ne'er grows old — 

Sovereign masters of all hearts ! 
Know ye, who hath set your parts ? 
He Who gave you breath to sing. 
By Whose strength ye sweep the string, 
He hath chosen you, to lead 

His Hosannas here below ; — 
Mount, and claim your glorious meed ; 

Linger not with sin and woe. 

But if ye should hold your peace. 
Deem not that the song would cease — 
Angels round His glory-throne, 
Stars, His guiding hand that own. 
Flowers that grow beneath our feet. 

Stones in earth's dark womb that rest, 
High and low in choir shall meet, 

Ere His Name shall be unblest. 

Lord, by eveiy minstrel tongue 
Be Thy praise so duly sung. 
That Thine angels' harps may ne'er 
Fail to find fit echoing here : 



68 MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

We the while, of meaner birth, 

Who in that divinest spell 
Dare not hope to join on earth. 

Give us grace to listen well. 

But should thankless silence seal 
Lips, that might half Heaven reveal. 
Should bards in idol-hymns profane 
The sacred soul-enthralling strain, 
(As in this bad world below 

Noblest things find vilest using,) 
Then, Thy pov/er and mercy shew, 

In vile things noble breath infusing 

Then waken into sound divine 

The very pavement of Thy shrine, 

Till we, like Heaven's star-sprinkled floor, 

Faintly give back what we adore. 

Childlike though the voices be. 

And untunable the parts, 
Thou wilt own the minstrelsy, 

If it flow from childlike hearts. 



I^oiitias before 3Sastcr. 

Doubtless thou art our father^ though Abraham be 
ignorant of us, and Israel ack7ioivledge us not. — Isaiah 
Ixiii. i6, 

" Father to me Thou art, and Mother dear, 
And Brother too, kind Husband of my heart !" 

So speaks Adromache* in boding fear. 

Ere from her last embrace her hero part — 

So evermore, by Faith's undying glow, 

We own the Crucified in weal or woe. 

* Iliad, vi. 429. 



MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 69 

Strange to our ears the church-bells of our home, 
The fragrance of our old paternal fields 

May be forgotten ; and the time may come 

When the babe's kiss no sense of pleasure yields 

Even to the doting mother : but Thine own 

Thou never canst forget, nor leave alone. 

There are who sigh that no fond heart is theirs, 
None loves them best — O vain and selfish sigh ! 

Out of the bosom of His love He spares — 
The Father spares the Son, for thee to die : 

For thee He died — for thee He lives again : 

O'er thee He watches in His boundless reign. 

Thou art as much His care, as if beside 

Nor man nor angel lived in Heaven or earth : 

Thus sunbeams pour alike their glorious tide 
To light up worlds, or wake an insect's m.irth : 

They shine and shine with unexhausted store — 

Thou art thy Saviour's darling — seek no more. 

On thee and thine, thy warfare and thine end, 
Even in His hour of agony He thought. 

When, ere the final pang His soul should rend, 
The ransomed spirits one by one were brought 

To His mind's eye ; two silent nights and days * 

In calmness for His far-seen hour He stays. 

Ye vaulted cells where martyred seers of old 

Far in the rocky walls of Sion sleep, 
Green terraces and arched fountains cold, 

Where lies the cypress shade so still and deep, 
Dear sacred haunts of glory and of woe. 
Help us, one hour, to trace His musings high and 
low : 

* In Passion week, from Tuesday evening to Thursday evening; 
during which time Scripture seems to be nearly silent concerning 
our Saviour's proceedings. 



70 MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

One heart-ennobling hour ! It may not be : 

The unearthly thoughts have passed from eaith 
away, 

And fast as evening sunbeams from the sea 
Thy footsteps all in Sion's deep decay 

Were blotted from the holy ground : yet dear 

Is every stone of hers ; for Thou wast .surely here. 

There is a spot within this sacred dale 

That felt Thee kneeling — touched Thy prostrate 
brow : 
One Angel knows it. O might prayer avail 

To win that knowledge ! sure each holy vow 
Less quickly from the unstable soul would fade, 
Offered where Christ in agony was laid. 

Might tear of ours once mingle w4th the blood 
That from His aching brow by moonlight fell, 

Over the mournful joy our thoughts would brood, 
Till they had framed within a guardian spell 

To chase repining fancies, as they rise, 

Like birds of evil wing, to mar our sacrifice. 

So dreams the heart self-flattering, fondly dreams ; — 
Else v/herefore, when the bitter waves o'erflow, 

Miss we the light, Gethsemane, that streams 

From Thy dear name, where in His page of woe 

It shines, a pale kind star in winter's sky } 

Who vainly reads it there, in vain had seen Him 
die. 



TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 71 



SuesUag before 2B aster. 

They gave him to drink wine mi^tgled with tnyrrh : but 
he received it not. — S. Mark xv. 23. 

" Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour 
The dews oblivious : for the Cross is sharp. 

The Cross is sharp, and He 

Is tenderer than a lamb. 



" He wept by Lazarus' grave — how will He bear 
This bed of anguish ? and His pale weak form 

Is worn with many a watch 

Of sorrow and unrest. 

" His sweat last night was as great drops of blood, 
A.nd the sad burthen pressed Him so to earth, 

The very torturers paused 

To help Him on His way. 

" Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense 
With medicined sleep." — O awful in Thy woe ! 

The parching thirst of death 

Is on Thee, and Thou triest 

The slumbrous potion bland, and wilt not drink : 
Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man 

With suicidal hand 

Putting his solace by : 

But as at first Thine all-pervading look 
Saw from Thy Father's bosom to the abyss. 

Measuring in calm presage 

The infinite descent ; 



72 TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

So to the end, though now of mortal pangs 
Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory awhile, 

With unaverted eye 

Thou meetest all the storm. 

Thou wilt feel all, that Thou mayst pity all ; 

And rather wouldst Thou wrestle with strong pain, 

Than overcloud Thy soul, 

So clear in agony. 

Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time. 
O most entire and perfect sacrifice. 

Renewed in every pulse 

That on the tedious Cross 

Told the long hours of death, as, one by one. 
The life-strings of that tender heart gave way ; 

Even sinners, taught by Thee, 

Look Sorrow in the face, 

And bid her freely welcome, unbeguiled 
By false kind solaces^ and spells of earth : — 

And yet not all unsoothed ; 

For when was Joy so dear, 

As the deep calm that breathed, " Father, for' 

give /" 
Or, " Be with Me in Paradise to-day "? 

And, though the strife be sore. 

Yet in His parting breath 

Love masters Agony ; the soul that seemed 
Forsaken, feels her present God again, 

And in her Father's arms 

Contented dies away. 



WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 73 



SS^etineslraj) before 3Bastet. 

Saying, Father, if thou be zuz'lling, 7'emove this cup frotn 
me ; nevertheless not 7ny will, but thme, be done. — S. Luke 
xxii. 42. 

Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will — 

I will lie still ; 

1 will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, 

And break the charm 
Which lulls me, clinging to miy Father's breast, 
In perfect rest. 

Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile 

With thy false smile : 
I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways ; 

Be silent, Praise, 
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all 

That hear thy call. 

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure. 
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure. 
Though dearest hopes are faithless found, 
And dearest hearts are bursting round. 
Come, Resignation, spirit meek, 
And let me kiss thy placid cheek. 
And read in thy pale eye serene 
Their blessing, who by faith can wean 
Their hearts from sense, and learn to love 
God only, and the joys above. 

They say, who know the life divine. 
And upward gaze with eagle eyne, 
That by each golden crown on high,* 
Rich with celestial jewelry, 

* . . . . " that little coronet or special reward which God hath 
prepared (extraordinary and beside the great Crown of all faithful 
souls) for those ' who have not defiled themselves with women, but 
follow the (virgin) Lamb for ever.'" — Bp. Taylor, Holy Living, 
chap. ii. sect. 3 ; p. 63. 



74 WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

Which for our Lord's redeemed is set, 
There hangs a radiant coronet, 
All gemmed with pure and living light. 
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight, 
Prepared for virgin souls, and them 
Who seek the martyr's diadem. 

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire. 

Must win their way through blood and fire. 

The writhings of a wounded heart 

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart. 

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining. 

In Desolation unrepining, 

Without a hope on earth to find 

A mirror in an answering mind. 

Meek souls there are, who little dream 

Their daily strife an Angel's theme. 

Or that the rod they take so calm 

Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. 

And there are souls that seem to dwell 

Above this earth — so rich a spell 

Floats round their steps, where'er they move, 

From hopes fulfilled and mutual love. 

Such, if on high their thoughts are set. 

Nor in the stream the source forget. 

If prompt to quit the bliss they know. 

Following the Lamb where'er He go. 

By purest pleasures unbeguiled 

To idolize or wife or child ; 

Such wedded souls our God shall own 

For faultless virgins round His throne. 

Thus everyvv^here we find our suffering God, 
And where He trod 

May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary- 
Uplifted high 

Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light 
In open fight. 



THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER. 75 

To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart 

He doth impart 
The virtue of His midnight agony, 

When none was nigh, 
Save God and one good angel, to assuage 

The tempest's rage. 

Mortal ! if life smile on thee, and thou find 

All to thy mind, 
Think who did once from Heaven to Hell descend 

Thee to befriend ; 
So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call, 

Thy best, thine all. 

" O Father ! not My will, but Thine be done !" 

So spake the Son. 
Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise 

Of griefs and joys ; 
That we may cling for ever to Thy breast 

In perfect rest ! 



®:f)urstiai) before 25aster* 

At the beginning of thy suppUcatiojis the commandment 
came forth., aiid I am come to shew thee ; for thou art 
greatly beloved: therefore understand the matter., and 
consider the vision. — Daniel ix. 23, 

" O holy mountain of my God, 

How do thy towers in ruin lie, 
How art thou riven and strewn abroad, 

Under the rude and wasteful sky !" 
'Twas thus upon his fasting-day 
The " Man of Loves " was fain to pray. 
His lattice open* toward his darling west, 
Mourning the ruined home he still must love the 
best. 

* Daniel vi. 10. 



76 THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

Oh for a love like Daniel's now, 

To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer 
For God's new Israel, sunk as low, 

Yet flourishing to sight as fair. 
As Sion in her height of pride, 
With queens for handmaids at her side, 
With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high, 
And compassed with the v/orld's too tempting 
blazonry. 

'Tis true, nor winter stays thy growth, 
Nor torrid summer's sickly smile ; 

The flashing billows of the south 
Break not upon so lone an isle. 

But thou, rich vine, art grafted there. 

The fruit of death or life to bear, 

Yielding a surer witness every day, 
To Thine Almighty Author and His steadfast sway. 

Oh ! grief to think, that grapes of gall 

Should cluster round thine healthiest shoot ! 
God's herald prove a heartless thrall, 

Who, if he dared, would fain be mute I 
Even such is this bad world we see, 
Which, self-condemned in owning Thee, 
Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take. 
For very pride, and her high-boasted Reason's 
sake. 

What do we then ? if far and wide 

Men kneel to Christ, the pure and meek, 
Yet rage with passion, swell with pride. 

Have we not still our faith to seek ? 
Nay — but in steadfast humbleness 
Kneel on to Him, Who loves to bless 
The prayer that waits for Him ; and trembling 
strive 
To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast 
alive. 



GOOD FRIDAY. 77 

Dark frowned the future even on Him, 

The loving and beloved Seer, 
What time he saw, through shadows dim, 

The boundary of the eternal year ; 
He only of the sons of men 
Named to be heir of glory then.* 
Else had it bruised too sore his tender heart 
To see God's ransomed world in wrath and flame 
depart. 

Then look no more : or closer watch 

Thy course in Earth's bewildering ways. 
For every glimpse thine eye can catch 

Of what shall be in those dread days : 
So when the Archangel's word is spoken, 
And Death's deep trance for ever broken, 
In mercy thou mayst feel the heavenly hand, 
And in thy lot unharmed before thy Saviour stand.-f 



He is despised atid rejected of men. — IsAlAH liii. 3. 

Is it not strange, the darkest hour 

That ever dawned on sinful earth 
Should touch the heart with softer power 

For comfort, than an angel's mirth } 
That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn 
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn } 

Sooner than where the Easter sun 

Shines glorious on yon open grave. 
And to and fro the ticlings run, 

" Who died to heal, is risen to save " ? 

* Daniel xii. 13. See Bp. Ken's Sermon on the Character of 
Daniel. 

t Thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.— 
Daniel xii. 13. 



78 GOOD FRIDAY. 

Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends 
The very Comforter in light and love descends? 

Yet so it is : for duly there 

The bitter herbs of earth are set. 
Till tempered by the Saviour's prayer, 

And with the Saviour's life-blood wet. 
They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm, 
Soft as imprisoned martyr's deathbed calm. 

All turn to sweet — but most of all 

That bitterest to the lip of pride, 
When hopes presumptuous fade and fall, 

Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried. 
Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear 
When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near. 

Then like a long-forgotten strain 

Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn 

What sunshine hours had taught in vain 
Of Jesus suffering shame and scorn, 

As in all lowly hearts He suffers still, 

While we triumphant ride and have the world at 
will. 

His pierced hands in vain would hide 
His face from rude reproachful gaze, 

His ears are open to abide 

The wildest storm the tongue can raise, 

He Who with one rough word,* some early day, 

Their idol world and them shall sweep for aye away, 

But we by Fancy may assuage 

The festering sore by Fancy made, 
Down in some lonely hermitage 

Like wounded pilgrims safely laid. 
Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distressed, 
That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest. 

* Wisdom of Solomon xii. g. 



EASTER EVEN. 79 

Oh ! shame beyond the bitterest thought 

That evil spirit ever framed, 
That sinners know what Jesus wrought, 

Yet feel their haughty hearts untamed : 
That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross, 
Should wince and fret at this world's little loss. 

Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry, 
Let not Thy blood on earth be spent ! 

Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie. 

Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent. 

Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes 

Wait like the parched earth on April skies. 

Wash me, and dry these bitter tears, 

O let my heart no further roam, 
'Tis Thine by vows and hopes and fears 

Long since — O call Thy wanderer home ; 
To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side, 
Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may 
hide. 



As for thee also, by the blood of thy cove7ta?ii I have sent 
forth thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no zvater. — 
Zechariah ix. II. 

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid 

Deep in Thy darksome bed ; 
All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone 

Thy sacred form is gone ; 
Around those lips where power and mercy hung, 

The dews of death have clung ; 
The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around, 
Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters 
wound. 



8o EASTER EVEN. 

Sleep'st Thou indeed ? or is Thy spirit fled 

At large among the dead ? 
Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice 

Wake Abraham to rejoice, 
Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls 

The thronging band of souls ; 
That, as Thy blood won earth, Thine agony 
Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sorrow 
free. 

Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we know, 

Seen at Thy side in woe,* 
Waits on Thy triumph — even as all the blest 

With Him and Thee shall rest. 
Each on his cross, by Thee we hang a while. 

Watching Thy patient smile, 
Till we have learned to say, " 'Tis justly done. 
Only in glory. Lord, Thy sinful servant own." 

Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower 

To rest one little hour, 
Till Thine elect are numbered, and the grave 

Call Thee to come and save : 
Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend, 

Again with earth to blend, 
Earth all refined with bright supernal fires, 
Tinctured with holy blood, and winged with pure 
desires. 

Meanwhile with every son and Saint of Thine 

Along the glorious line. 
Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet 

We'll hold communion sweet. 
Know them by look and voice, and thank them 
all 

For helping us in thrall, 

* S, Luke xxiii. 



EASTER EVEN. 8* 

For words of hope, and bright examples given 
To shew through moonless skies that there is light 
in Heaven. 

O come that day, when in this restless heart 

Earth shall resign her part, 
When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall 

rest 
My soul with Thee be blest ! 
But stay, presumptuous ! Christ with thee abides 

In the rock's dreary sides : 
He from the stone will wring celestial dew 
[f but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and true. 

When tears are spent, and thou are left alone 

With ghosts of blessings gone, 
Think thou art taken from the Cross, and laid 

In Jesus' burial shade ; 
Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call 

Out of the rocky wall 
The fount of holy blood ; and lift on high 
Thy groveUing soul that feels so desolate and dry. 

Prisoner of Hope thou art*— look up and sing 

In hope of promised spring. 
As in the pit his father's darling lay t 

Beside the desert way, 
And knew not how, but knew his God would 
save 
Even from that living grave. 
So buried with our Lord, we'll close our eyes 
To the decaying world, tiU Angels bid us rise. 

* Turn you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope.-Zechariah 



'""tThey took hhn, and cast him into, a pit;, and the pit was 
empty, there was no water in it.— Genesis xxxvu. 24. 



82 EASTER DAY 



3Saster Siag. 

A7td as they were afraid^ and bowed dowji their faces to 
the earthy they said ttnto them, Why seek ye the living 
among the dead ? He is not here, but is risen. — S. Luke 
xxiv. 5, 6. 

O day of days ! shall hearts set free 
No '"minstrel rapture" find for thee? 
Thou art the Sun of other days, 
They shine by giving back thy rays : 

Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere 
Thou shedd'st thy light on all the year : 
Sundays by thee more glorious break, 
An Easter Day in every week : 

And week-days, following in their train, 
The fulness of thy blessing gain. 
Till all, both resting and employ. 
Be one Lord's day of holy joy. 

Then wake, my soul, to high desires, 
And earlier light thine altar fires : 
The world some hours is on her way. 
Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day : 

Or, if she think, it is in scorn : 
The vernal light of Easter morn 
To her dark gaze no brighter seems 
Than reason's or the law's pale beams. 

•' Where is your Lord ?" she scornful asks : 
" Where is His hire ? we know His tasks ; 
Sons of a King ye boast to be ; 
Let us your crowns and treasures see," 



EASTER DAY. 83 

We in the words of Truth reply 
(An Angel brought them from the sky), 
" Our crown, our treasure is not here, 
'Tis stored above the highest sphere : 

" Methinks your wisdom guides amiss. 
To seek on earth a Christian's bHss ; 
We watch not now the lifeless stone ; 
Our only Lord is risen and gone." 

Yet even the lifeless stone is dear 
For thoughts of Him Who late lay here ; 
And the base world, now Christ hath died. 
Ennobled is and glorified. 

No more a charnel-house, to fence 

The relics of lost innocence, 

A vault of ruin and decay ; — 

The imprisoning stone is rolled away : 

'Tis now a cell, where Angels use 
To come and go with heavenly news, 
And in the ears of mourners say, 
" Come see the place where Jesus lay !" 

*Tis now a fane, where Love can find 
Christ everywhere embalmed and shrined ; 
Aye gathering up memorials sweet. 
Where'er she sets her duteous feet. 

Oh ! joy to Mary first allowed, 
When roused from weeping o'er His shroud, 
By His own calm, soul-soothing tone, 
Breathing her name, as still His own ! 

Joy to the faithful three renewed. 
As their glad errand they pursued ! 
Happy, who so Christ's word convey, 
That He may meet them on their way ! 



84 MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 

So is it still : to holy tears, 
In lonely hours, Christ risen appears : 
In social hours, who Christ would see, 
Must turn all tasks to Charity. 



I^ontrag iti ISaster SS^eefe* 

Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of per^ 
sons : but in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh 
righteousness^ is accepted with him. — Acts x. 34, 35. 

Go up and watch the new-born rill 
Just trickling- from its mossy bed, 
Streaking the heath-clad hill 
With a bright emerald thread. 

Canst thou her bold career foretell, 
What rocks she shall o'erleap or rend, 
How far in ocean's swell 

Her freshening billows send ? 

Perchance that little brook shall flow 
The bulwark of some mighty realm, 
Bear navies to and fro 

With monarchs at their helm. 

Or canst thou guess how far away 
Some sister nymph beside her urn 
Reclining night and day, 

'Mid reeds and mountain fern, 

Nurses her store, with thine to blend 
When many a moor and glen are past, 
Then in the wide sea end 
Their spotless lives at last ? 



- MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 85 

Even so, the course of prayer who knows ? 
It springs in silence where it will, 
Springs out of sight, and flows 
At first a lonely rill : 

But streams shall meet it by and by 
From thousand sympathetic hearts, 
Together swelling high 
Their chant of many parts. 

Unheard by all but angel ears 
The good Cornelius knelt alone, 
Nor dreamed his prayers and tears 
Would help a world undone. 

The while upon his terraced roof 
The loved Apostle to his Lord 
In silent thought aloof 
For heavenly vision soared. 

Far o'er the glowing western main 
His wistful brow was upward raised. 
Where, like an Angel's train, 
The burnished water blazed. 

The saint beside the ocean prayed. 
The soldier in his chosen bower. 
Where all his eye surveyed 
Seemed sacred in that hour. 

To each unknowm his brother's prayer. 
Yet brethren true in dearest love 
Were they — and now they share 
Fraternal joys above. 

There daily through Christ's open gate 
They see the Gentile spirits press, 
Brightening their high estate 
With dearer happiness. 



86 TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 

What civic wreath for comrades saved 
Shone ever with such deathless gleam, 
Or when did perils braved 
So sweet to veterans seem ? 



SucsQas in Haster ®®eefe. 

And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear 
and great joy ; and did run to bring his disciples word, — - 
S. Matthew xxviii. 8. 

TO THE SNOW-DROP. 

Thou first-born of the year's delight. 

Pride of the dewy glade, 
In vernal green and virgin white, 

Thy vestal robes, arrayed : 

'Tis not because thy drooping form 

Sinks graceful on its nest, 
When chilly shades from gathering storm 

Affright their tender breast ; 

Nor for yon river islet wild 

Beneath the willow spray, 
Where, like the ringlets of a child, 

Thou weavest thy circle gay ; 

'Tis not for these I love thee dear ; 

Thy shy averted smiles 
To Fancy bode a joyous year. 

One of Life's fairy isles. 

They twinkle to the wintry moon. 
And cheer the ungenial day. 

And tell us, all will glisten soon 
As green and bright as they. 



TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 87 

Is there a heart that loves the spring 

Their witness can refuse ? 
Yet mortals doubt when angels bring 

From Heaven their Easter news : 

When holy maids and matrons speak 

Of Christ's forsaken bed, 
And voices, that forbid to seek 

The living 'mid the dead, 

And when they say, " Turn, wandering heart, 

Thy Lord is risen indeed, 
Let Pleasure go, put Care apart. 

And to His Presence speed ;" 

We smile in scorn : and yet we know 

They early sought the tomb, 
Their hearts, that now so freshly glow. 

Lost in desponding gloom. 

They who have sought, nor hope to find, 
Wear not so bright a glance : 

They who have won their earthly mind 
Less reverently advance. 

But where, in gentle spirits, fear 

And joy so duly meet, 
These sure have seen the angels near, 

And kissed the Saviour's feet. 

Nor let the Pastor's thankful eye 

Their faltering tale disdain, 
As on their lowly couch they lie. 

Prisoners of want and pain. 

O guide us when our faithless hearts 
From Thee would start aloof. 

Where Patience her sweet skill imparts 
Beneath some cottage roof: 



88 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Revive our dying fires, to burn 
High as her anthems soar, 

And of our scholars let us learn 
Our own forgotten lore. 



2rt)5 jFii^st SunDas after SEastcr* 

Seemeth it bid a small thing unto you^ that the God of 
Israel hath separated you from the congregation of Israel, 
to bring you near to himself? — Numbers xvi. 9. 

First Father of the holy seed, 
If yet invoked in hour of need, 

Thou count me for Thine own, 
Not quite an outcast if I prove, 
(Thou joy'st in miracles of love,) 

Hear, from Thy mercy-throne ! 

Upon Thine altar's horn of gold 
Help me to lay my trembling hold. 

Though stained with Christian gore ;— 
The blood of souls by Thee redeemed. 
But, while I roved or idly dreamed. 

Lost to be found no more. 

For oft, w^hen summer leaves were bright, 
And every flower was bathed in light. 

In sunshine moments past, 
My wilful heart would burst away 
From where the holy shadow lay. 

Where Heaven my lot had cast. 

I thought it scorn with Thee to dwell, 
A Hermit in a silent cell, 
While, gaily sweeping by, 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 89 

Wild Fancy blew his bugle strain, 
And marshalled all his gallant train 
In the world's wondering eye. 

I would have joined him — but as oft 
Thy whispered warnings, kind and soft, 

My better soul confessed. 
" My servant, let the world alone — 
Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne 

Be tranquil and be blest. 

" Seems it to thee a niggard hand 

That nearest Heaven has bade thee stand, 

The ark to touch and bear. 
With incense of pure heart's desire 
To heap the censer's sacred fire. 

The snow-white Ephod wear ?" 

Why should we crave the worldling's wreath 
On whom the Saviour deigned to breathe, 

To whom His keys were given, 
Who lead the choir where angels meet, 
With angels' food our brethren greet, 

And pour the drink of Heaven ? 

When sorrow all our heart would ask, 
We need not shun our daily task, 

And hide ourselves for calm ; 
The herbs we seek to heal our woe 
Familiar by our pathway grow, 

Our common air is balm. 

Around each pure domestic shrine 
Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine. 

Our hearths are altars all ; 
The prayers of hungry souls and poor, 
Like arm^d angels at the door. 

Our unseen foes appall. 



go SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Alms all around and hymns within — 
What evil eye can entrance win 

Where guards like these abound ? 
If chance some heedless heart should roam, 
Sure, thought of these will lure it home 

Ere lost in Folly's round. 

O joys, that, sweetest in decay, 
Fall not, like withered leaves, away. 

But with the silent breath 
Of violets drooping one by one. 
Soon as their fragrant task is done, 

Are wafted high in death ! 



S;|)e SecontJ SunHa^ after SSastet* 

He hath said, tvhich heard the words of God-, and knew 
the knowledge of the most Htgh^ which saw the vision of the 
Almighty, falling into a trance, but having his eyes open : 
I shall see him, but not now : I shall behold hiin, but not 
nigh : there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre 
shall rise otit of Israel, and shall smite the corners of Moab, 
and destroy all the children of Sheth. — Numbers xxiv. 
i6, 17. 

O for a sculptor's hand. 

That thou might'st take thy stand, 
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze, 

Thy tranced yet open gaze 

Fixed on the desert haze, 
As one who deep in Heaven some airy pageant 
sees. 

In outline dim and vast 
Their fearful shadows cast 
The giant forms of empires on their way 



SECOiYD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 91 

To ruin : one by one 
They tower and they are gone, 
Yet in the Prophet's soul the dreams of avarice 
stay. 

No sun or star so bright 

In all the world of light 
That they should draw to Heaven his downward 
eye : 

He hears the Almighty's word, 

He sees the Angel's sword. 
Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure lie. 

Lo from yon argent field, 

To him and us revealed, 
One gentle Star glides down, on earth to dwell. 

Chained as they are below 

Our eyes may see it glow, 
And as it mounts again, may track its brightness 
well. 

To him it glared afar, 

A token of wild war, 
The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath : 

But close to us it gleams, 

Its soothing lustre streams 
Around our home's green walls, and on our church- 
way path. 

We in the tents abide 

Which he at distance eyed 
Like goodly cedars by the waters spread. 

While seven red altar-fires 

Rose up in wavy spires, 
Where on the mount he watched his sorceries dark 
and dread. 



92 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

He watched till morning's ray 

On lake and meadow lay, 
And willow-shaded streams, that silent sweep 

Around the bannered lines. 

Where by their several signs 
The desert-wearied tribes in sight of Canaan sleep. 

He watched till knowledge came 

Upon his soul like flame — 
Not of those magic fires at random caught : 

But true prophetic light 

Flashed o'er him, high and bright, 
Flashed once, and died away, and left his darkened 
thought. 

And can he choose but fear. 
Who feels his God so near, 
That when he fain would curse, his powerless 
tongue 
In blessing only moves ? — 
Alas ! the world he loves 
Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath 
flung. 

Sceptre and Star divine, 

Who in Thine inmost shrine 
Hast made us worshippers, O claim Thine own ; 

More than Thy seers we know — 

O teach our love to grow 
Up to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou 
hast sown. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER, 93 



Wt^z 2ri)irU ^tintras after Bastei% 

A woman when she z's in travail hat k sorrow^ because her 
hour is co?}te : but as soon as she is delivered of the child, 
she rejnembereth no 7nore the anguish^ for joy that a man is 
born ijtto the world — S. John xvi. 21. 

Well may I guess and feel 
Why Autumn should be sad ; 
But vernal airs should sorrow heal, 
Spring should be gay and glad : 
Yet as along this violet bank I rove, 

The languid sweetness seems to choke my 
breath, 
I sit me down beside the hazel grove, 
And sigh, and half could wish my weariness were 
death. 

Like a bright veering cloud 
Gray blossoms twinkle there, 
Warbles around a busy crowd 
Of larks in purest air. 
Shame on the heart that dreams of blessings gone, 
Or wakes the spectral forms of woe and crime, 
When nature sings of joy and hope alone, 
Reading her cheerful lesson in her own sweet time. 

Nor let the proud heart say, 
In her self-torturing hour. 
The travail pangs must have their way, 
The aching brow must lower. 
To us long since the glorious Child is born, 

Our throes should be forgot, or only seem 
Like a sad vision told for joy at morn, 
For joy that we have waked and found it but a 
dream. 



94 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASEER. 

Mysterious to all thought 
A mother's prime of bliss, 
When to her eager lips is brought 
Her infant's thrilling kiss. 
O never shall it set, the sacred light 

Which dawns that moment on her tender 
gaze, 
In the eternal distance blending bright 
Her darling's hope and hers, for love and joy and 
praise. 

No need for her to weep 
Like Thracian wives of yore. 
Save when in rapture still and deep 
Her thankful heart runs o'er. 
They mourned to trust their treasure on the 
main. 
Sure of the storm, unknowing of their guide : 
Welcome to her the peril and the pain. 
For well she knows the home where they may safely 
hide. 

She joys that one is born 
Into a world forgiven, 
Her Father's household to adorn, 
And dwell with her in Heaven. 
So have I seen, in Spring's bewitching hour, 

When the glad earth is offering all her best, 
Some gentle maid bend o'er a cherished flower. 
And wish it worthier on a parent's heart to rest. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 95 



STlje iFourti) .Sutiliag after 25 aster* 

Nevertheless I tell you the truth, It is expedient for you 
that I go away : for if I go 7iot away, the Comforter will 
not come unto you ; but tf I depart, I will send hitn unto 
you. — S. John xvi. 7. 

My Saviour, can it ever be 
That I should gain by losing- Thee ? 
The watchful mother tarries nigh 
Though sleep have closed her infant's eye, 
For should he wake, and find her gone. 
She knows she could not bear his moan. 
But I am weaker than a child. 

And Thou art more than mother dear ; 
Without Thee Heaven were but a wild : 

How can I live without Thee here ! 

" 'Tis good for you, that I should go, 
You lingering yet awhile below ;" — 
'Tis Thine own gracious promise, Lord ! 
Thy saints have proved the faithful word. 
When Heaven's bright boundless avenue 
Far opened on their eager view, 
And homeward to Thy Father's throne. 

Still lessening, brightening on their sight. 
Thy shadowy car went soaring on ; 

They tracked Thee up the abyss of light. 

Thou bidst rejoice ; they dare not mourn, 
But to their home in gladness turn, 
Their home and God's, that favoured place. 
Where still He shines on Abraham's race. 
In prayers and blessings there to wait 
Like suppliants at their monarch's gate, 



96 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Who bent with bounty rare to aid 
The splendours of His crowning day. 

Keeps back aw^hile His largess, made 
More welcome for that brief delay : 

In doubt they wait, but not unblest ; 
They doubt not of their Master's rest, 
Nor of the gracious will of Heaven — 
Who gave His Son, sure all has given — 
But in ecstatic awe they muse 
What course the genial stream may choose. 
And far and wide their fancies rove. 

And to their height of wonder strain. 
What secret miracle of love 

Should make their Saviour's going gain. 

The days of hope and prayer are past. 
The day of comfort dawns at last. 
The everlasting gates again 
Roll back, and lo ! a royal train — 
From the far depth of light once more 
The floods of glory earthward pour : 
They part like shower-drops in mid air, 

But ne'er so soft fell noon-tide shower, 
Nor evening rainbow gleamicd so fair 

To weary swains in parched bower. 

Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame 

Through cloud and breeze unwavering came. 

And darted to its place of rest 

On some meek brow of Jesus blest. 

Nor fades it yet, that living gleam. 

And still those lambent lightnings stream ; 

Where'er the Lord is, there are they ; 

In every heart that gives them room, 
They light His altar every day, 

Zeal to inflame, and vice consume. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 97 

Soft as the plumes of Jesus' Dove 
They nurse the soul to heavenly love : 
The struggling spark of good within, 
Just smothered in the strife of sin. 
They quicken to a timely glow, 
The pure flame spreading high and low. 
Said I, that prayer and hope were o'er ? 

ISI^ay, blessed Spirit ! but by Thee 
The Church's prayer finds wings to soar. 

The Church's hope finds eyes to see. 

Then, fainting soul, arise and sing ; 

Mount, but be sober on the wing ; 

Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer, 

Be sober, for thou art not there ; 

Till Death the weary spirit free. 

Thy God hath said, 'Tis good for thee 

To walk by faith and not by sight : 

Take it on trust a little while ; 
Soon shalt thou read the mystery right 

In the full sunshine of His smile. 



Or if thou yet more knowledge crave, 
Ask thine own heart, that willing slave 
To all that works thee woe or harm : 
Shouldst thou not need some mighty charm 
To win thee to thy Saviour's side, 
Though He had deigned with thee to bide 1 
The Spirit must stir the darkling deep, 

The Dove must settle on the Cross, 
Else we should all sin on or sleep 

With Christ in sight, turning ourgaintoloss. 



98 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

W^z iFifti) SunUai) after Hastn*. 

ROGATION SUNDAY. 

And the Lord was very angry vjoith Aaron to have 
destroyed him : and I prayed for Aaron also the same 
time. — Deuteronomy ix. 20. 

Now is there solemn pause in earth and Heaven : 
The Conqueror now 
His bonds hath riven, 
And Angels wonder why He stays below : 
Yet hath not man his lesson learned, 
How endless love should be returned. 

Deep is the silence as of summer noon, 
When a soft shower 
Will trickle soon, 
A gracious rain, freshening the weary bower — 
O sweetly then far off is heard 
The clear note of some lonely bird. 

So let Thy turtle dove's sad call arise 
In doubt and fear 
Through darkening skies. 
And pierce, O Lord, Thy justly sealed ear. 
Where on the house top,* all night long, 
She trills her widov/ed, faltering song. 

Teach her to know and love her hour of prayer, 
And evermore. 
As faith grows rare. 
Unlock her heart, and offer all its store 
In holier love and humbler vows, 
As suits a lost returning spouse. 

* Psalm cii. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 99 

Not as at first,* but with intenser cry. 
Upon the mount 
She now must lie. 
Till Thy dear love to blot the sad account 
Of her rebellious race be won, 
Pitying the mother in the son. 

But chiefly (for she knows Thee angered worst 
By holiest things 
Profaned and curst) 
Chiefly for Aaron's seed she spreads her wings. 
If but one leaf she may from Thee 
Win of the reconciling tree. 

For what shall heal, when holy water banes } 
Or who may guide 
O'er desert plains 
Thy loved yet sinful people wandering wide, 
If Aaron's hand unshrinking mould t 
An idol form of earthly gold } 

Therefore her tears are bitter, and as deep 
Her boding sigh. 
As, while men sleep, 
Sad-hearted mothers heave, that wakeful lie. 
To muse upon some darling child 
Roaming in youth's uncertain wild. 

Therefore on fearful dreams her inward sight 
Is fain to dwell — 
What lurid light 
Shall the last darkness of the world dispel. 
The Mediator in His wrath 
Descending down the lightning's path. 

* I fell down before the Lord forty days and forty nights, as I 
fell down at the first. — Deuteronomy ix. 25. 
t Exodus xxxii. 4. 



loo ASCENSION DAY. 

Yet, yet awhile, offended Saviour, pause ; 
In act to break* 
Thine outraged laws, 
O spare Thy rebels for Thine own dear sake ; 
Withdraw Thine hand, nor dash to earth 
The covenant of our second birth. 

'Tis forfeit like the first — we own it all — 
Yet for love's sake. 
Let it not fall ; 
But at Thy touch let veiled hearts awake, 
That nearest to Thine altar lie, 
Yet least of holy things descry. 

Teacher of teachers ! Priest of priests ! from Thee 
The sweet strong prayer 
Must rise, to free 
First Levi, then all Israel, from the snare. 
Thou art our Moses out of sight — 
Speak for us, or we perish quite. 



S:t)e Ascension SBa^, 

Why stand ye gazing up into heaven ? This same Jesus, 
ivhich is taken up from you i?zto heaveti, shall so come 
in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven, — ACTS 
i, II. 

Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May 
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch, 

Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way. 
Meet pavement for an Angel's glorious march : 

My soul is envious of mine eye. 
That it should soar and glide with Thee so fast. 

The while my grovelling thoughts half buried lie. 
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste. 

* Exodus xxxii. 19. 



ASCENSION DAY. loi 

Chains of my heart, avaunt I say — 
I will arise, and in the strength of love 

Pursue the bright track ere it fade away, 
My Saviour's pathway to His home above. 

Sure, when I reach the point where earth 
Melts into nothing from the uncumbered sight, 

Heaven will o'ercome the attraction of my birth. 
And I shall sink in yonder sea of light : 

Till resting by the incarnate Lord, 
Once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake, 
I mark Him, how by seraph hosts adored, 
He to earth's lowest cares is still awake. 

The sun and every vassal star. 
All space, beyond the soar of angel wings, 

Wait on His word : and yet He stays His care 
For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings. 

He listens to the silent tear 
For all the anthems of the boundless sky — 

And shall our dreams of music bar our ear 
To His soul-piercing voice for ever nigh } 

Nay, gracious Saviour — but as now 
Our thoughts have traced Thee to Thy glory-throne ; 

So help us evermore with Thee to bow 
Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan. 

We must not stand to gaze too long, 
Though on unfolding Heaven our gaze we bend. 

Where lost behind the bright angelic throng 
We see Christ's entering triumph slow ascend. 

No fear but we shall soon behold. 
Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive. 
When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold 
Our wasted frames feel the true sun, and live. 



SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION DAY. 

Then shall we see Thee as Thou art, 
For ever fixed in no unfruitful gaze, 

But such as lifts the new-created heart, 
Age after age, in worthier love and praise. 



W^z .SunUa^ after Ascension IIBag. 

As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the 
same one to another^ as good stewards of the manifold grace 
cf God. — I S. Peter iv. lo. 

The earth that in her genial breast 
Makes for the down a kindly nest, 
Where wafted by the warm south-west 

It floats at pleasure, 
Yields, thankful, of her very best, 

To nurse her treasure : 

True to her trust, tree, herb, or reed, 
She renders for each scattered seed. 
And to her Lord with duteous heed 

Gives large increase : 
Thus year by year she works unfeed, 

And will not cease. 

Woe worth these barren hearts of ours, 
Where Thou hast set celestial fiov/ers. 
And watered with more balmy showers. 

Than e'er distilled 
In Eden, on the ambrosial bowers — 

Yet nought we yield. 

Largely Thou givest, gracious Lord, 
Largely Thy gifts shall be restored ; 



. SUN DA Y AFTER ASCENSION DA V. 103 

Freely Thou givest, and Thy word 

Is, " Freely give."* 
He only who forgets to hoard 

Has learned to live. 

Wisely thou givest ; all around 
Thine equal rays are resting found, 
Yet varying so on various ground 

They pierce and strike, 
That not two roseate cups are crowned 

With dew aHke : 

Even so, in silence, likest Thee, 
Steals on soft-handed Charity, 
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free, 

By time and place. 
Till not a woe the bleak world see. 

But finds her grace : 

Eyes to the blind, and to the lame 
Feet, and to sinners wholesome blame, 
To starving bodies food and flame 

By turns she brings. 
To humbled souls, that sink for shame, 

Lends heavenward wings : 

Leads them the way our Saviour went. 
And shews Love's treasure yet unspent ; 
As when the unclouded heavens were rent 

Opening His road, 
Nor yet His Holy Spirit sent 

To our abode. 

Ten days the eternal doors displayed 
Were wondering (so the Almighty bade) 
Whom Love enthroned would send, in aid 

Of souls that mourn. 
Left orphans in earth's dreary shade 

As soon as born. 

* S. Matthew x. 8. 



I04 SUNDA V AFTER ASCENSION DA V. 

Open they stand, that prayers in throngs 
May rise on high, and holy songs. 
Such incense as of right belongs 

To the true shrine. 
Where stands the Healer of all wrongs 

In light divine ; 

The golden censer in His hand, 
He offers hearts from every land, 
Tied to His own by gentlest band 

Of silent Love : 
About Him wingfed blessings stand 

In act to move. 

A little while, and they shall fleet 
From Heaven to earth, attendants meet 
On the life-giving Paraclete 

Speeding His flight. 
With all that sacred is and sweet. 

On saints to light. 

Apostles, Prophets, Pastors, all 
Shall feel the shower of Mercy fall. 
And, starting at the Almighty's call, 

Give what He gave. 
Till their high deeds the v/orld appall. 

And sinners save. 



WHITSUNDA V. 105 



And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a 
rushing mighty wifid, and it filed all the house where they 
were sitting. And there appeared utito them cloven tongues 
like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were 
all filled with the Holy Ghost. — Acts ii. 2, 3, 4. 

When God of old came down from Heaven, 
In power and wrath He came ; 

Before His feet the clouds were riven, 
Half darkness and half flame : 

Around the trembling mountain's base 

The prostrate people lay, 
Convinced of sin, but not of grace ; 

It was a dreadful day. 

But when He came the second time, 

He came in power and love. 
Softer than gale at morning prime 

Hovered His holy Dove. 

The fires that rushed on Sinai down 

In sudden torrents dread, 
Now gently light, a glorious crown. 

On every sainted head. 

Like arrows went those lightnings forth 
Winged with the sinner's doom, 

But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth 
Proclaiming life to come : 

And as on Israel's awe-struck ear 

The voice exceeding loud, 
The trump, that angels quake to hear. 

Thrilled from the deep, dark cloud, 



io6 MONDAY IN WHITSUN- WEEK. 

So. when the Spirit of our God 

Came down His flock to find, 
A voice from Heaven was heard abroad, 

A rushing, mighty wind. 

Nor doth the outward ear alone 

At that high warning start ; 
Conscience gives back the appalling tone ; 

'Tis echoed in the heart. 

It fills the Church of God ; it fills 

The sinful world around ; 
Only in stubborn hearts and wills 

No place for it is found. 

To other strains our souls are set : 

A giddy whirl of sin 
Fills ear and brain, and will not let 

Heaven's harmonies come in. 

Come, Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Power, 

Open our ears to hear ; 
Let us not miss the accepted hour ; 

Save, Lord, by Love or Fear. 



So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the 
face of all the earth : and they left off to build the city. — 
Genesis xi. 8. 

Since all that is not Heaven must fade, 
Light be the hand of Ruin laid 

Upon the home I love : 
With lulling spell let soft decay 
Steal on, and spare the giant sway, 

The crash of tower and grove. 



MONDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 107 

Far opening down some woodland deep 
In their own quiet glade should sleep 

The relics dear to thought, 
And wild-flower wreaths from side to side 
Their waving tracery hang, to hide 

What ruthless Time has wrought. 

Such are the visions green and sweet 
That o'er the wistful fancy fleet 

In Asia's sea-like plain. 
Where slowly, round his isles of sand, 
Euphrates through the lonely land 

Winds toward the pearly main. 

Slumber is there, but not of rest ; 
There her forlorn and weary nest 

The famished hawk has found, 
The wild dog howls at fall of night. 
The serpent's rustling coils affright 

The traveller on his round. 

What shapeless form, half lost on high,* 
Half seen against the evening sky, 

Seems like a ghost to glide, 
And watch, from Babel's crumbling heap. 
Where in her shadow, fast asleep. 

Is fallen imperial Pride } 

With half-closed eye a lion there 

Lies basking in his noontide lair. 

Or prowls in twilight gloom, 

* See Sir R. K. Porter's Travels, il. 387. " In mysecond visit 
to Birs Nimrood, my party suddenly halted, having descried 
several dark objects moving along the summit of its hill, which 
they construed into dismounted Arabs on the look-out : I took out 
my glass to examine, and soon distinguished that the causes of our 
alarm were two or three majestic lions, taking the air upon the 
heights of the pyramid." 



io8 MONDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

The golden city's king he seems, 
Such as in old prophetic dreams* 

Sprang from rough ocean's womb. 

But where are now his eagle wings, 
That sheltered erst a thousand kings, 

Hiding the glorious sky 
From half the nations, till they own 
No holier name, no mightier throne ? 

That vision is gone by. 

Quenched is the golden statue's ray,t 
The breath of Heaven has blown away 

What toiling earth had piled. 
Scattering wise heart and crafty hand, 
As breezes strew on ocean's sand 

The fabrics of a child. 

Divided thence through every age 
Thy rebels. Lord, their warfare wage. 

And hoarse and jarring all 
Mount up their heaven-assailing cries 
To thy bright watchmen in the skies 

From Babel's shattered wall. 

Thrice only since, with blended might 
The nations on that haughty height 

Have met to scale the Heaven : 
Thrice only might a seraph's look 
A moment's shade of sadness brook — 

Such power to guilt was given. 

Now the fierce bear and leopard keenj 
Are perished as they ne'er had been. 

Oblivion is their home : 
Ambition's boldest dream and last 
Must melt before the clarion blast 

That sounds the dirge of Rome. 

* Daniel vii. 4. t Daniel ii. and iii, % Daniel vii. 5, 6. 



TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 109 

Heroes and kings, obey the charm, 
Withdraw the proud high-reaching arm ; 

There is an oath on high. 
That ne'er on brow of mortal birth 
Shall blend again the crowns of earth, 

Nor in according cry. 

Her many voices mingling own 
One tryant lord, one idol throne : 

But to His triumph soon 
He shall descend, Who rules above, 
And the pure language of His love * 

All tongues of men shall tune. 

Nor let Ambition heartless mourn ; 
When Babel's very ruins burn, 

Her high desires may breathe ; — 
O'ercome thyself, and thou mayst share 
With Christ His Father's throne,t and wear 

The world's imperial wreath. 



When he putteth forth his own sheep^ he goeth be/ore 
the?}i. — S. John x. 4. 

(addressed to candidates for ordination.) 

" Lord, in Thy field I work all day, 
I read, I teach, I warn, I pray, 
And yet these wilful wandering sheep 
Within Thy fold I cannot keep. 

* Then will I turn to the people a pure language, that they may 
all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve him with one consent. — 
Zephaniah iii. 9. 

t To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my 
throne. — Revelation iii. 21. 



3 TUESDA V IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

" I journey, yet no step is won — 
Alas ! the weary course I run ! 
Like sailors shipwrecked in their dreams, 
All powerless and benighted seems." 

What ? wearied out with half a life ? 
Scared with this smooth unbloody strife ? 
Think where thy coward hopes had flown 
Had Heaven held out the martyr's crown. 

How couldst thou hang upon the Cross, 
To whom a weary hour is loss ? 
Or how the thorns and scourging brook. 
Who shrinkest from a scornful look? 

Yet, ere thy craven spirit faints, 
Hear Thine own King — the King of saints ; 
Though thou wert toiling in the grave, 
'Tis He can cheer thee. He can save. 

He is the eternal mirror bright, 
Where angels view the Father's light, 
And yet in Him the simplest swain 
May read his homely lesson plain. 

Early to quit His home on earth, 
And claim His high celestial birth. 
Alone with His true Father found 
Within the Temple's solemn round : — 

Yet in meek duty to abide 

For many a year at Mary's side, 

Nor heed, though restless spirits ask, 

" What ? hath the Christ forgot His task ?"- 

Conscious of Deity within, 
To bow before an heir of sin, 
With folded arms on humble breast. 
By His own servant washed and blest : — 



' TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

Then full of Heaven, the mystic Dove 
Hovering His gracious brow above, 
To shun the voice and eye of praise, 
And in the wild His trophies raise : — 

With hymns of angels in His ears, 
Back to His task of woe and tears. 
Unmurmuring through the world to roam 
With not a wish or thought at home : — 

All but Himself to heal and save. 

Till ripened for the Cross and grave 

He to His Father gently yield 

The breath that our redemption sealed : — 

Then to unearthly life arise, 
Yet not at once to seek the skies, 
But glide awhile from saint to saint, 
Lest on our lonely way we faint ; 

And through the cloud by glimpses shew 
How bright, in Heaven, the marks will glow 
Of the true Cross, imprinted deep 
Both on the Shepherd and the sheep : — 

When out of sight, in heart and prayer 
Thy chosen people still to bear, 
And from behind Thy glorious veil 
Shed light that cannot change or fail : — 

This is Thy pastoral course, O Lord, 
Till we be saved, and Thou adored ; — 
Thy course and ours — but who are they 
Who follow on the narrow way ? 

And yet of Thee from year to year 
The Church's solemn chant we hear. 
As from Thy cradle to Thy throne 
She swells her high heart-cheering tone. 



TRINITY SUN DA Y 

Listen, ye pure white-robed souls, 
Whom in her list she now enrolls, 
And gird ye for your high emprise 
By these her thrilling minstrelsies. 

And wheresoe'er, in earth's wide field, 
Ye lift, for Him, the red-cross shield. 
Be this your song, your joy and pride — 
" Our Champion went before and died." 



STrtnitg Suntra^* 

If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how 
shall ye believe, if I tell you of heavenly things f — S. John 
iii. 12. 

Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide, 
Now on Thy mercy's ocean wide 
Far out of sight we seem to glide. 

Help us, each hour, with steadier eye 
To search the deepening mystery, 
The wonders of Thy sea and sky. 

The blessed angels look and long 
To praise Thee with a worthier song, 
And yet our silence does Thee wrong. 

Along the Church's central space 
The sacred weeks with unfelt pace 
Have borne us on from grace to grace. 

As travellers on some woodland height, 
When wintry suns are gleaming bright, 
Lose in arched glades their tangled sight : 

By glimpses such as dreamers love 
Through her grey veil the leafless grove 
Shews where the distant shadows rove ; 



TRINITY SUNDA Y. 113 

Such trembling joy the soul o'erawes 
As nearer to Thy shrine she draws : 
And now before the choir we pause. 

The door is closed — but soft and deep 
Around the awful arches sweep 
Such airs that soothe a hermit's sleep. 

From each carved nook and fretted bend 

Cornice and gallery seem to send 

Tones that with seraph hymns might blend. 

Three solemn parts together twine 

In harmony's mysterious line ; 

Three solemn aisles approach the shrine : 

Yet all are One — together all. 

In thoughts that awe but not appall. 

Teach the adoring heart to fall. 

Within these walls each fluttering guest 
Is gently lured to one safe nest — 
Without, 'tis moaning and unrest. 

The busy world a thousand ways 

Is hurrying by, nor ever stays 

To catch a note of Thy dear praise. 

Why tarries not her chariot wheel. 

That o'er her with no vain appeal 

One gust of heavenly song might steal } 

Alas ! for her Thy opening flowers 
Unheeded breathe to summer showers. 
Unheard the music of Thy bowers. 

What echoes from the sacred dome 
The selfish spirit may o'ercome 
That will not hear of love or home "^ 



114 FIRST SUNDA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

The heart that scorned a father's care. 
How can it rise in filial prayer ? 
How an all-seeing Guardian bear ? 

Or how shall envious brethren own 
A Brother on the eternal throne, 
Their Father's joy, their hope alone ? 

How shall Thy Spirit's gracious wile 
The sullen brow of gloom beguile. 
That frowns on sweet affection's smile. 

Eternal One, Almighty Trine ! 

(Since Thou art ours, and we are Thine) 

By all Thy love did once resign, 

By all the grace Thy heavens still hide, 
We pray Thee, keep us at Thy side, 
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide ! 



Wt^z JFi^^st Suntjao after ^Trinitg* 

So yoshua smote all the country of the hills^ atid of the 
souths and of the vale, and of the springs, and all their 
kings : he left ?tone remainiitg. — Joshua x. 40. 

Where is the land with milk and honey flowing, 
The promise of our God, our fancy's theme? 
Here over shattered walls dank weeds are growing, 
And blood and fire have run in mingled stream ; 
Like oaks and cedars all around 
The giant corses strew the ground, 
And haughty Jericho's cloud-piercing wall 
Lies where it sank at Joshua's trumpet call 

These are not scenes for pastoral dance at even, 
For moonlight rovings in the fragrant glades, 

Soft slumbers in the open eye of Heaxen, 
And all the listless joy of summer shades. 



. FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 115 

We in the midst of ruins live, 
Which every hour dread warning give, 
Nor may our household vine or fig-tree hide 
The broken arches of old Canaan's pride. 

Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting, 
The deep calm sky, the sunshine of the soul. 
Now Heaven and earth are to our bliss consenting, 
And all the Godhead joins to make us whole? 
The triple crown of mercy now 
Is ready for the suppliant's brow, 
By the Almighty Three for ever planned. 
And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' hand. 

" Now, Christians, hold your own — the land before 

ye 

Is open — win your way, and take your rest." 
So sounds our war-note ; but our path of glory 
By many a cloud is darkened and unblest : 
And daily as we downward glide, 
Life's ebbing stream on either side 
Shews at each turn some mouldering hope or joy. 
The man seems following still the funeral of the boy. 

Open our eyes, Thou Sun of life and gladness. 

That we may see that glorious world of Thine ! 
It shines for us in vain, while drooping sadness 
Enfolds us here like mist : come Power benign. 
Touch our chilled hearts with vernal smile, 
Our wintry course do Thou beguile. 
Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn, 
Who have the eternal towers for our appointed 
bourne. 



ii6 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 



Sr|)e SecontJ Sunlrag after STriiiita?, 

Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We 
know that ive have passed from death unto life, because we 
love the brethren. — I S. John iii. 13, 14. 

The clouds that wrap the setting sun 

When Autumn's softest gleams are ending, 
Where all bright hues together run 
In sweet confusion blending : — 
Why, as we watch their floating wreath. 
Seem they the breath of hfe to breathe ? 
To Fancy's eye their motions prove 
They mantle round the Sun for love. 

When up some woodland dale we catch 

The many twinkling smile of ocean, 
Or with pleased ear bewildered watch 

His chime of restless motion ; 
Still as the surging waves retire, 
They seem to gasp with strong desire, 
Such signs of love old Ocean gives. 
We cannot choose but think he lives. 

Wouldst thou the life of souls discern ? 

Nor human wisdom nor divine 
Helps thee by aught beside to learn ; 

Love is life's only sign. 
The spring of the regenerate heart. 
The pulse, the glow of every part. 
Is the true love of Christ our Lord, 
As man embraced, as God adored. 

But He whose heart will bound to mark 
The full bright burst of summer morn, 
Loves too each little dewy spark 
By leaf or floweret worn : 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 117 

Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true. 
Through the bright shower-drop meet his view ; 
The colouring may be of this earth ; 
The lustre comes of heavenly birth. 

Even so, who loves the Lord aright, 

No soul of man can worthless find ; 
All will be precious in his sight, 

Since Christ on all hath shined. 
But chiefly Christian souls ; for they, 
Though worn and soiled with sinful clay, 
Are yet, to eyes that see them true. 
All glistening with baptismal dew. 

Then marvel not, if such as bask 

In purest light of innocence, 
Hope against hope, in love's dear task. 

Spite of all dark offence. 
If they who hate the trespass most. 
Yet, when all other love is lost. 
Love the poor sinner, marvel not ; 
Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot. 

No distance breaks the tie of blood ; 

Brothers are brothers evermore : 
Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood 

That magic may o'erpower ; 
Oft, ere the common source be known. 
The kindred drops will claim their own. 
And throbbing pulses silently 
Move heart towards heart by sympathy, 

So is it with true Christian hearts ; 

Their mutual share in Jesus' blood 
An everlasting bond imparts 
Of holiest brotherhood : 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Oh ! might we all our hneage prove. 
Give and forgive, do good and love. 
By soft endearments in kind strife 
Lightening the load of daily life ! 

There is much need : for not as yet 

Are we in shelter or repose ; 
The holy house is still beset 

With leaguer of stern foes ; 
Wild thoughts within, bad men without. 
All evil spirits round about, 
Are banded in unblest device. 
To spoil Love's earthly paradise. 

Then draw we nearer day by day. 

Each to his brethren, all to God ; 
Let the world take us as she may, 

We must not change our road ; 
Not wondering, though in grief, to find 
The martyr's foe still keep her mind ; 
But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, 
And by submission win at last. 



M%z 2ri)irtr .Suntrag after STrinit^, 

There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over otie 
sinner that repenteth. — S. Luke xv. io. 

O hateful spell of Sin ! when friends are nigh. 
To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought, 

And raise accusing shades of hours gone by, 
To come between us and all kindly thought ! 

Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul 
Flies from the heart and home she dearest loves 

To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll, 
Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves ! 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 119 

In vain : the averted cheek in loneliest dell 
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear, 

The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell 
Our heart's sad secret to the silent air. 

Nor is the dream untrue : for all around 

The heavens arc watching with their thousand 
eyes, 

We cannot pass our guardian angel's bound, 
Resigned or sullen, he will hear our sighs. 

He in the mazes of the budding wood 

Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance 
Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strewed 

With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance. 

In wasteful bounty showered, they smile unseen. 
Unseen by man — but what if purer sprights 

By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean 
To adore the Father of all gentle lights ! 

If such there be, O grief and shame to think 
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy, 

A newborn soul, just waiting on the brink 
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy ! 

O turn, and be thou turned ! the selfish tear. 
In bitter thoughts of low born care begun, 

Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear. 
The turbid waters brightening as they run. 

Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart 
In penitential drops have ebbed away. 

Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part, 
Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray. 

O lost and found ! all gentle souls below 

Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove 

Such joy o'er thee, as raptured seraphs know, 
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 



2rt)e iFouvtf) Suntiai) after STrinitj. 

For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for 
the manifestation of the sons of God. For the creatu7'e was 
made subject to vanity^ not willingly, but by reason of him 
who hath subjected the same in hope, because the creature 
itself also shall be delivered frorn the bondage of corruptioft 
into the glorious liberty of the childrejt of God. For we 
knozv that the ivhole creatioit groaneth and travaileth in pain 
together uittil now. — Romans viii. 19-22. 

It was not then a poet's dream, 

An idle vaunt of song, 
Such as beneath the moon's soft gleam 

On vacant fancies throng ; 

Which bids us see in heaven and earth, 

In all fair things around. 
Strong yearnings for a blest new birth 

With sinless glories crowned ; 

Which bids us hear, at each sweet pause 

From care and want and toil, 
When dewy eve her curtain draws 

Over the day's turmoil. 

In .the low chant of wakeful birds, 

In the deep v/eltering flood, 
In whispering leaves, these solemn words — 

" God made us all for good." 

All true, all faultless, all in tune, 

Creation's wondrous choir 
Opened in mystic unison 

To last till time expire. 

And still it lasts : by day and night, 

With one consenting voice, 
All hymn Thy glory, Lord, aright, 

All worship and rejoice. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Man only mars the sweet accord, 
O'erpowering with " harsh din " 

The music of Thy works and word, 
111 matched with grief and sin. 

Sin is with man at morning break. 
And through the live-long day 

Deafens the ear that fain would wake 
To Nature's simple lay. 

But when eve's silent footfall steals 

Along the eastern sky, 
And one by one to earth reveals 

Those purer fires on high. 

When one by one each human sound 

Dies on the awful ear, 
Then Nature's voice no more is drowned. 

She speaks and we must hear. 

Then pours she on the Christian heart 
That warning still and deep. 

At which high spirits of old v/ould start 
Even from their Pagan sleep. 

Just guessing, through their murky blind. 
Few, faint, and baffling sight. 

Streaks of a brighter Heaven behind, 
A cloudless depth of light. 

Such thoughts, the wreck of Paradise, 
Through many a dreary age. 

Upbore whate'er of good and wise 
Yet lived in bard or sage : 

They marked what agonizing throes 
Shook the great mother's womb ; 

But Reason's spells might not disclose 
The srracious birth to come ; 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Nor could the enchantress Hope forecast 
God's secret love and power ; 

The travail pangs of Earth must last 
Till her appointed hour ; 

The hour that saw from opening Heaven 

Redeeming glory stream, 
Beyond the summer hues of even. 

Beyond the mid-day beam. 

Thenceforth, to eyes of high desire. 

The meanest things below. 
As with a Seraph's robe of tire 

Invested, burn and glow : 

The rod of Heaven has touched them all, 
The word from Heaven is spoken ; 

" Rise, shine, and sing, thou captive thrall, 
Are not thy fetters broken ? 

" The God Who hallowed thee and blessed. 
Pronouncing thee all good — 

Hath He not all thy wrongs redressed 
And all thy bliss renewed ? 

" Why mourn'st thou still as one bereft, 

Now that the eternal Son 
His blessed home in Heawen hath left 

To make thee all His own ?" 

Thou mourn'st because Sin lingers still 
In Christ's new Heaven and earth ; 

Because our rebel works and will 
Stain our immortal birth : 

Because, as love and prayer grow cold, 

The Saviour hides His face, 
And worldlings blot the temple's gold 

With uses vile and base. 



FIFTH SUNDA V AFTER TRINITY. 123 

Hence all thy groans and travail pains, 

Hence, till thy God return, 
In Wisdom's ear thy blithest strains, 

O Nature, seem to mourn. 



^!)e jFiftf) Suttlias after STriitits* 

And Simon answering said unto him. Master, we have 
toiled all the night and have taken nothing : nevertheless 
at thy word I will let doivn the 7iet. And luhen they had this 
done, they inclosed a great multitude of fishes : and their 
net brake. — S. Luke v. 5, 6. 

" The livelong night we've toiled in vain, 

But at Thy gracious word, 
I will let down the net again : — 

Do Thou Thy will, O Lord !" 

So spake the weary fisher, spent 

With bootless darkling toil. 
Yet on his Master's bidding bent 

For love and not for spoil. 

So day by day and week by week. 

In sad. and weary thought, 
They muse, whom God hath set to seek 

The souls His Christ hath bought. 

For not upon a tranquil lake 

Our pleasant task we ply, 
Where all along our glistening wake 

The softest moonbeams lie ; 

Where rippling wave and dashing oar 

Our midnight chant attend, 
Or whispering palm-leaves from the shore 

With midnight silence blend. 



124 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Sweet thoughts of peace, ye may not last 
Too soon some ruder sound 

Calls us from where ye soar so fast, 
Back to our earthly round. 

For wildest storms our ocean sweep : — 

No anchor but the Cross 
Might hold : and oft the thankless deep 

Turns all our toil to loss. 

Full many a dreary, anxious hour 

We watch our nets alone 
In drenching spray, and driving shower, 

And hear the night-bird's moan. 

At morn we look, and nought is there ; 

Sad dawn of cheerless day ! 
Who then from pining and despair 

The sickening heart can stay } 

There is a stay — and we are strong ; 

Our Master is at hand, 
To cheer our solitary song. 

And guide us to the strand. 

In His own time : but yet awhile 
Our bark at sea must ride • 

Cast after cast, by force or guile 
All waters must be tried : 

By blameless guile or gentle force, 
As when He deigned to teach 

(The lode-star of our Christian course) 
Upon this sacred beach. 

Should ere Thy wonder-working grace 
Triumph by our weak arm. 

Let not our sinful fancy trace 
Aught human in the charm : 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 125 

To our own nets* ne'er bow we down, 

Lest on the eternal shore 
The angels, while our draught they own,t 

Reject us evermore : 

Or, if for our unworthiness 

Toil, prayer, and watching fail, 

In disappointment Thou canst bless, 
So love at heart prevail. 



K\z Sipt!) Simlra^ after STriixitg* 

David said unto Nathan, I have siftfted against the Lord. 
And Nathan said unto David, The Lord also hath put away 
thy siJt ; thou shalt not die. — 2 Samuel xii. 13. 

When bitter thoughts, of conscience born, 

With sinners wake at morn, 
When from our restless couch we start. 
With fevered lips and withered heart. 
Where is the spell to charm those mists away, 
And make new morning in that darksome day ? 
One draught of spring's delicious air, 
One steadfast thought, that God is there. 

These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought, J 
Thou Lord of time and thought. 

Lifting and lowering souls at will. 

Crowding a world of good or ill 
Into a moment's vision ; even as light 
Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright. 

From west to east one thrilling ray 

Turning a wintry world to May. 

* Therefore they sacrifice unto their net, and burn incense unto 
their drag. — Habakkuk i. 16. 
+ S. Matthew xiii. 49. 
i See Herbert's Poems, p. ir3. 



126 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Woulclst thou the pangs of guilt assuage ? 

Lo ! here an open page, 
Where heavenly mercy shines as free. 
Written in balm, sad heart, for thee. 
Never so fast, in silent April shower, 
Flushed into green the diy and leafless bower,* 
As Israel's crowned mourner felt 
The dull hard stone within him melt. 

The absolver saw the mighty grief, 

And hastened with relief ; — 
" The Lord forgives ; thou shalt not die : " — 
'Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high, 
And all the band of angels, used to sing 
In Heaven, accordant to his raptured string. 
Who many a month had turned away 
With veiled eyes, nor owned his lay, 

Now spread their wings and throng around 
To the glad mournful sound. 

And welcome, with bright open face, 

The broken heart to love's embrace. 
The rock is smitten, and to future years 
Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears t 

And holy music, whispering peace 

Till time and sin together cease. 

There drink : and V\^hen ye are at rest. 

With that free Spirit blest,| 
Who to the contrite can dispense 
The princely heart of innocence, 



* And all this uniform uncoloured scene 
Shall .... flush into variety again. 

Cowper, Winter Walk at Noon, 
t Psalm li. 

j I' Uphold me with thy 'free' spirit." Psalm li. 12. The 
original word seems to mean " ingenuous, princely, noble," Read 
Bishop Home's Paraphrase on the verse. 



SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 127 

If ever, floating from faint earthly lyre, 
Was wafted to your soul one high desire, 
By all the trembling hope ye feel, 
Think on the minstrel as ye kneel : 

Think on the shame, that dreadful hour 

When tears shall have no power. 
Should his own lay the accuser prove. 
Cold while he kindled others' love : 
And let your prayer for charity arise, 
That his own heart may hear his melodies. 
And a true voice to him may ciy, 
" Thy God forgives — thou shalt not die." 



Srtje ,Sebcttt|) Suntrai? after STritiits. 

From whence can a man satisfy these tnen ivith bread 
here in the wilderness ? — S. Mark viii. 4. 

Go not away, thou weary soul : 
Heaven has in store a precious dole 

Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height. 
Where over rocks and sands arise 
Proud Sirion in the northern skies. 

And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday 
light. 

And far below, Gennesaret's main 
Spreads many a mile of liquid plain 

(Though all seem gathered in one eager bound). 
Then narrowing cleaves yon palmy lea, 
Towards that deep sulphureous sea, 

Where five proud cities lie, by one dire sentence 
drowned. 



128 SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Landscape of fear ! yet, weary heart, 

Thou need'st not in thy gloom depart, 
Nor fainting turn to seek thy distant hom« : 

Sweetly thy sickening throbs are eyed 

By the kind Saviour at thy side ; 
For healing and for balm even now thine hour is 
come. 

No fiery wing is seen to glide, 

No cates ambrosial are supplied, 
But one poor fisher's rude and scanty store 

Is all He asks (and more than needs) 

Who men and angels daily feeds. 
And stills the wailing sea-bird on the hungry shore. 

The feast is o'er, the guests are gone, 

And over all that upland lone 
The breeze of eve sweeps wildly as of old ; 

But far unlike the former dreams. 

The heart's sweet moonlight softly gleams 
Upon life's varied view, so joyless erst and cold. 

As mountam travellers in the night. 

When heaven by fits is dark and bright, 
Pause listening on the silent heath, and hear 

Nor trampling hoof nor tinkling bell, 

Then bolder scale the rugged fell, 
Conscious the more of One, ne'er seen, ever yet 
near : 

So when the tones of rapture gay 

On the lorn ear die quite away, 
The lonely world seems lifted nearer Heaven ; 

Seen daily, yet unmarked before, 

Earth's common paths are strewn all o'er 
With flowers of pensive hope, the wreath of man 
forgiven. 



EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 129 

The low sweet tones of Nature's lyre 

No more on listless ears expire, 
Nor vainly smiles along the shady way 

The primrose in her vernal nest. 

Nor unlamented sink to rest 
Sweet roses one by one, nor autumn leaves decay. 

There's not a star the heaven can shew. 

There's not a cottage hearth below. 
But feeds with solace kind the willing soul — 

Men love us, or they need our love ; 

Freely they own, or heedless prove 
The curse of lawless hearts, the joy of self-control. 

Then rouse thee from desponding sleep, 

Nor by the wayside lingering weep. 
Nor fear to seek Him farther in the wild. 

Whose love can turn earth's worst and least 

Into a conqueror's royal feast : 
Thou wilt not be untrue, thou shalt not be beguiled. 



Wqz His^t!) Suntiag after STritiita). 

It is the jnan of God, who was disobedient unto the word 
of the Lord. — i Kings xiii. 26. 

Prophet of God, arise and take 
With thee the words of wrath divine, 

The scourge of Heaven, to shake 

O'er yon apostate shrine. 

Where angels down the lucid stair 
Came hovering to our sainted sires. 

Now, in the twilight, glare 

The heathen's wizard fires. 



I30 EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Go, with thy voice the altar rend, 

Scatter the ashes, be the arm, 
That idols would befriend, 
Shrunk at thy withering charm. 

Then turn thee, for thy time is short, 
But trace not o'er the former way, 

Lest idol pleasures court 

Thy heedless soul astray. 

Thou know'st how hard to hurry by, 
Where on the lonely woodland road 

Beneath the moonlight sky 

The festal warblings flowed ; 

Where maidens to the Queen of Heaven 
Wove the gay dance round oak or palm. 

Or breathed their vows at even 

In hymns as soft as balm. 

Or thee perchance a darker spell 
Enthralls : the smooth stones of the flood,* 

By mountain grot or fell, 

Pollute with infant's blood ; 

The giant altar on the rock, 
The cavern whence the timbrel's call 
Affrights the wandering flock : — 
Thou long'st to search them all. 

Trust not the dangerous path again — 
O forward step and lingering will ! 

O loved and warned in vain ! 

And wilt thou perish still ? 

* Among the smooth stones of the stream is thy portion ; they, 
they are thy lot, — Isaiah Ivii. 6. 



- NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 131 

Thy message given, thine home in sight, 
To the forbidden feast return ? 

Yield to the false delight 

Thy better soul could spurn ? 

Alas, my brother ! round thy tomb 

In sorrow kneeling, and in fear, 
We read the Pastor's doom 
Who speaks and will not hear. 

The gray-haired saint may fail at last, 
The surest guide a wanderer prove ; 

Death only binds us fast 

To the bright shore of love. 



Wc^z IMintij) .SutiGao after Srinits. 

A7td after the earthquake afire ; but the Lord was not in 
the fire : and after the fire a still small voice. — i Kings 
xix. 12. 

In troublous days of anguish and rebuke, 
While sadly round them Israel's children look, 

And their eyes fail for waiting on their Lord : 
While underneath each awful arch of green. 
On every mountain top, God's chosen scene 

Of pure heart -worship, Baal is adored : 

'Tis well true hearts should for a time retire 
To holy ground, in quiet to aspire 

Towards promised regions of serener grace ; 
On Horeb, with Elijah, let us lie. 
Where all around on mountain, sand, and sky, 

God's chariot-wheels have left distinctest trace : 



132 NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

There, if in jealousy and strong disdain 
We to the sinner's God of sin complain, 

Untimely seeking here the peace of Heaven — 
" It is enough, O Lord ! now let me die 
E'en as my fathers did : for what am I 

That I should stand, where they have vainly 
striven ?" — 

Perhaps our God may of our conscience ask, 
" What doest thou here, frail wanderer from thy 
task ? 
Where hast thou left those few sheep in the 
wild ?"* 
Then should we plead our heart's consuming pain, 
At sight of ruined altars, prophets slain. 

And God's own ark with blood of souls defiled ; 

He on the rock may bid us stand, and see 
The outskirts of His march of mystery, 

His endless warfare with man's wilful heart ; 
First, His great Power He to the sinner shews, 
Lo ! at His angry blast the rocks unclose. 

And to their base the trembling mountains 
part; 

Yet the Lord is not here : 'tis not by Power 
He will be known ; but darker tempests lower — 

Still, sullen heavings vex the labouring ground : 
Perhaps His Presence through all depth and height, 
Best of all gems, that deck Plis crown of light, 

The haughty eye may dazzle and confound. 

God is not in the earthquake ; but behold 
From Sinai's caves are bursting, as of old. 

The flames of His consuming jealous ire. 
Woe to the sinner, should stern Justice prove 
His chosen attribute ; — but He in love 

Hastes to proclaim, " God is not in the fire." 

* I Samuel xvii. 28. 



TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 133 

The storm is o'er — and hark ! a still small voice 
Steals on the ear, to say, Jehovah's choice 

Is ever with the soft, meek, tender soul : 
By soft, meek, tender ways He loves to draw 
The sinner, startled by His ways of awe : 

Here is our Lord, and not where thunders roll. 

Back then, complainer ; loath thy life no more, 
Nor deem thyself upon a desert shore, 

Because the rocks the nearer prospect close. 
Yet in fallen Israel are there hearts and eyes 
That day by day in prayer like thine arise : 

Thou know'st them not, but their Creator 
knows. 

Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast 
Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last* 

In joy to find it after many days. 
The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part : 
Choose to believe, not see : sight tempts the heart 

From sober walking in true Gospel ways. 



2r|)c Sent!) .SuixUas after STrinits. 

Atid when he was come near, he beheld the city, a7id wept 
over it. — S. Luke xix. 41. 

Why doth my Saviour weep 

At sight of Sion's bowers } 
Shews it not fair from yonder steep, 

Her gorgeous crown of towers? 
Mark well His holy pains : 

'Tis not in pride or scorn. 
That Israel's King with sorrow stains 

His own triumphal morn. 

* Ecclesiastes xi. i. 



134 TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

It is not that His soul 

Is wandering sadly on, 
In thought how soon at death's dark goal 

Their course will all be run, 
Who now are shouting round 

Hosanna to their chief ; 
No thought like this in Him is found. 

This were a Conqueror's grief.* 

Or doth He feel the Cross 

Already in His heart, 
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss ? 

Feel even His God depart ? 
No : though He knew full well 

The grief that then shall be — 
The grief that angels cannot tell — 

Our God in agony. 

It is not thus He mourns ; 

Such might be martyr's tears, 
When his last lingering look he turns 

On human hopes and fears ; 
But hero ne'er or saint 

The secret load might know 
With which His spirit waxeth faint ; 

His is a Saviour's woe. 

" If thou hadst known, even thou 

At least in this thy day, 
The message of thy peace ! but now 

'Tis passed for aye away : 
Now foes shall trench thee round. 

And lay thee even with earth, 
And dash thy children to the ground, 

Thy glory and thy mirth." 

* Cf. Herodotus, vii. 46. 



ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 135 

And doth the Saviour weep 

Over His people's sin, 
Because we will not let Him keep 

The souls He died to win ? 
Ye hearts, that love the Lord, 

If at this sight ye burn, 
See that in thought, in deed, in word. 

Ye hate what made Him mourn. 



Wc^z IBlebgnt!) Sutxtias after STrinita). 

Is it a thne to receive money ^ and to receive gartnents, and 
oiiveyards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and men- 
servants, and maidservants ? — 2 Kings v. 26. 

Is tMs a time to plant and build. 
Add house to house, and field to field, 
When round our walls the battle lowers. 
When mines are hid beneath our towers, 
And watchful foes are stealing round 
To search and spoil the holy ground ? 

Is this a time for moonlight dreams, 
Of love and home by mazy streams, 
For Fancy with her shadowy toys. 
Aerial hopes and pensive joys, 
While souls are wandering far and wide. 
And curses swarm on every side ? 

No ! rather steel thy melting heart 
To act the martyr's sternest part, 
To watch with firm unshrinking eye 
Thy darUng visions as they die. 
Till all bright hopes and hues of day 
Have faded into twilight grey. 



136 ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Yes, let them pass without a sigh, 

And if the world seem dull and dry, 

If long and sad thy lonely hours, 

And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers, 

Bethink thee what thou art, and where, 

A sinner in a life of care. 

The fire of Heaven is soon to fall, 
(Thou know'st it) on this earthly ball ; 
Then many a soul, the price of blood. 
Marked by the Almighty's hand for good, 
Shall feel the o'erfiowing whirlwinds sweep — 
And will the blessed Angels weep ? 

Then in His wrath shall God uproot 
The trees He set, for lack of fruit. 
And drown in rude tempestuous blaze 
The towers His hand had deigned to raise ; 
In silence, ere that storm begin, 
Count o'er His mercies and thy sin. 

Pray only that thine aching heart. 
From visions vain content to part. 
Strong for Love's sake its woe to hide. 
May cheerful wait the Cross beside. 
Too happy if, that dreadful day. 
Thy life be given thee for a prey.* 

Snatched sudden from the avenging rod, 
Safe in the bosom of thy God, 
How wilt thou then look back, and smile 
On thoughts that bitterest seemed erew^hile, 
And bless the pangs that made thee see. 
This was no world of rest for thee. 

* The Lord saith thus : Behold, that which I have built will I 
break down, and that which I have planted I will pluck up, even 
this whole land. And seekest thou great things for thyself? seek 
them not : for, behold, I will bring evil upon all fiesh, saith the 
Lord ; but thy life will I give unto thee for a prey in all places 
wither thou goest. — Jeremiah xlv. 4, 5. 



TWELFTH SUN DA Y AFTER TRINITY. 137 



Wi)t STtodftf) Suittiag after STrinits* 

And looking up to heaveit^ he sighed^ and saith unto hifu^ 
Ephphatha, that zs, Be opeited. — S. Mark vii. 34. 

The Son of God in doing good 

Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh '. 

And shall the heirs of sinful blood 
Seek joy unmixed in charity ? 

God will not let Love's work impart 

Full solace, lest it steel the heart ; 

Be thou content in tears to sow, 

Blessing, like Jesus, in thy woe. 

He looked to Heaven, and sadly sighed — 

What saw my gracious Saviour there, 
With fear and anguish to divide 

The joy of Heaven-accepted prayer? 
So o'er the bed where Lazarus slept 
He to His Father groaned and Avept : 
What saw He mournful in that grave, 
Knowing Himself so strong to save ? 

O'erwhelming thoughts of pain and grief 

Over His sinking spirit sweep ; — 
" What boots it gathering one lost leaf 

Out of yon sere and withered heap. 
Where souls and bodies, hopes and joys, 
All that earth owns or sin destroys, 
Under the spurning hoof are cast, 
Or tossing in the autumnal blast ?" 

The deaf may hear the Saviour's voice. 
The fettered tongue its chain may break : 

But the deaf heart, the dumb by choice, 
The laggard soul, that will not wake, 



8 TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

The guilt that scorns to be forgiven ; — 
These baffle e'en the spells of Heaven ; 
In thought of these, His brows benign 
Not even in healing cloudless shine. 

No eye but His might ever bear 

To gaze all down that drear abyss, 
Because none ever saw so clear 

The shore beyond of endless bliss : 
The giddy waves so restless hurled, 
The vexed pulse of this feverish world. 
He views and counts with steady sight. 
Used to behold the Infinite. 

But that in such communion high 
He hath a fount of strength within, 

Sure His meek heart would break and die, 
O'erburthened by His brethren's sin ; 

Weak eyes on darkness dare not gaze, 

It dazzles like the noon-day blaze ; 

But He Who sees God's face may brook 

On the true face of Sin to look. 

What then shall wretched sinners do, 

When in their last, their hopeless day. 
Sin, as it is, shall meet their view, 

God turn His face for aye away ? 
Lord, by Thy sad and earnest eye. 
When Thou didst look to Heaven and sigh 
Thy voice, that with a word could chase 
The dumb, deaf spirit from his place ; 

As Thou hast touched our ears, and taught 
Our tongues to speak Thy praises plain. 

Quell Thou each thankless, godless thought 
That would make fast our bonds ao-ain. 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 139 

From worldly strife, from mirth unblest. 
Drowning Thy music in the breast, 
From foul reproach, from thrilling fears, 
Preserve, good Lord, Thy servants' ears. 

From idle words, that restless throng, 

And haunt our hearts when we would pray, 

From pride's false chime, and jarring wrong. 
Seal Thou my lips, and guard the way -. 

For Thou hast sworn, that every ear. 

Willing or loth. Thy trump shall hear. 

And every tongue unchained be 

To own no hope, no God, but Thee, 



2r|)e 2r|)irteent|) .Suntiaj after ©ti'm't^* 

And he tui-ned hi7n taitohis disciples, and said privately. 
Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see : For I 
tell you, that ma7iy prophets and kiJtgs have desired to see 
those things which ye see, and have not seen them ; and to 
hear those things ivhich ye hear, and have not heard thetfi. 
— S. Luke x. 23, 24. 

On Sinai's top, in prayer and trance. 

Full forty nights and forty days 
The Prophet watched for one dear glance 

Of Thee and of Thy ways : 

Fasting he watched and all alone. 
Wrapt in a still, dark, solid cloud. 

The curtain of the Holy One 

Drawn round him like a shroud : 

So, separate from the world, his breast 
Might duly take and strongly keep 

The print of Heaven, to be expressed 
Ere long on Sion's steep.* 

* See that thou make all things according to the pattern shewed 
to thee in the mount. — Hebrews viii. 5. 



I40 THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

There, one by one, his spirit saw 
Of things divine the shadows bright, 

The pageant of God's perfect law ; 
Yet felt not full delight. 

Through gold and gems, a dazzling maze. 
From veil to veil the vision led. 

And ended where unearthly rays 
From o'er the Ark were shed. 

Yet not that gorgeous place, nor aught 

Of human or angelic fram.e. 
Could half appease His craving thought ; 

The void was still the same. 

" Shew me Thy glory, gracious Lord ! 

'Tis Thee," he cries, " not Thine, I seek."^ 
Nay, start not at so bold a word 

From man, frail worm and weak : 

The spark of his first deathless fire . 

Yet buoys him up, and high above 
The holiest creature, dares aspire 

To the Creator's love. 

The eye in smiles may wander round. 
Caught by earth's shadows as they fleet; 

But for the soul no help is found. 
Save Him Who made it, meet. 

Spite of yourselves, ye witness this,t 
Who blindly self or sense adore ; 

Else wherefore leaving your own bliss 
Still restless ask ye more } 

* Exodus xxxiii. 18. 

t Pensees de Pascal, part i, art. viii. 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 141 

This witness bore the Saints of old 
When highest rapt and favoured most ; 

Still seeking precious things untold, 
Not in fruition lost. 

Canaan was theirs, and in it all 

The proudest hope of kings dare claim : 

Sion was theirs ; and at their call 
Fire from Jehovah came. 

Yet monarchs walked as pilgrims still 

In their own land, earth's pride and grace 

And seers would mourn on Sion's hill 
Their Lord's averted face. 

Vainly they tried the deeps to sound 
Even of their own prophetic thought. 

When of Christ crucified and crowned 
His Spirit in them taught : 

But He their aching gaze repressed 
Which sought behind the veil to see. 

For not without us fully blessed * 
Or perfect might they be. 

The rays of the Almighty's face 
No sinner's eye might then receive ; 

Only the meekest man found grace t 
To see His skirts and live. 

But we as in a glass espy 

The glory of His countenance. 

Not in a whirlwind hurrying by 
The too presumptuous glance, 

* That they without us should not be made perfect.— Hebrews 
i. 40. 
t Exodus xxxiii. 20-23. 



142 FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

But with mild radiance every hour, 
From our dear Saviour's face benign 

Bent on us with transforming power, 
Till we, too, faintly shine. 

Sprinkled with His atoning blood 
Safely before our God we stand. 

As on the rock the Prophet stood, 
Beneath His shadowing hand. 

Blessed eyes, which see the things we see ! 

And yet this tree of life hath proved 
To many a soul a poison tree, 

Beheld, and not beloved. 

So like an angel's is our bliss 
(Oh ! thought to comfort and appall !) 

It needs must bring, if used amiss, 
An angel's hopeless fall. 



2ri)c jFourteentf) Sunlrag after gTrinitj, 

And yesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed ? 
but where are the nirie ? There are not found that re- 
turned to give glory to God, save this stranger. — S. Luke 
xvii. 17, 18. 

Ten cleansed, and only one remain ! 

Who would have thought our nature's stain 

Was dyed so foul, so deep in grain 1 

Even He Who reads the heart, — 
Knows what He gave and what we lost. 
Sin's forfeit, and redemption's cost, — 
By a short pang of wonder crossed 

Seems at the sight to start : 



FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 143 

Yet 'twas not wonder, but His love 
Our wavering spirits would reprove, 
That heavenward seem so free to move 

When earth can yield no more : 
Then from afar on God we cry ; 
But should the mist of w^oe roll by, 
Not show^ers across an April sky 

Drift, when the storm is o'er, 

Faster than those false drops and few 
Fleet from the heart, a worthless dew. 
What sadder scene can angels view s 

Than self-deceiving tears, 
Poured idly over some dark page 
Of earlier life, though pride or rage 
The record of to-day engage, 

A woe for future years ? 

Spirits, that round the sick man's bed 
Watched, noting down each prayer he made, 
W^ere your unerring roll displayed. 

His pride of health to abase ; 
Or when soft showers in season fall 
Answering a famished nation's call, 
Should unseen fingers on the wall 

Our vows forgotten trace ; 

How should we gaze in trance of fear 
Yet shines the light as thrilling clear 
From Heaven upon that scroll severe, 

" Ten cleansed and one remain !" 
Nor surer would the blessing prove 
Of humbled hearts, that own Thy love, 
Should choral welcome from above 

Visit our senses plain : 

Than by Thy placid voice and brow. 
With healing first, with comfort now. 



144 FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Turned upon him, who hastes to bow 
Before Thee, heart and knee ; 

" Oh ! thou, who only wouldst be blest, 

On thee alone My blessing rest ! 

Rise, go thy way in peace, possessed 
For evermore of Me." 



STfJC Jfifteent!) Suntiag after eTrmitg, 

Consider the lilies of the fields how they grow. 
S. Matthew vi. 28. 

Sweet nursHngs of the vernal skies, 

Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew, 
What more than magic in you lies, 

To fill the heart's fond view ? 
In childhood's sports, companions gay. 
In sorrow, on life's downward way, 
How soothing ! in our last decay 
Memorials prompt and true. 

Relics ye are of Eden's bowers. 

As pure, as fragrant, and as fair. 
As when ye crowned the sunshine hours 

Of happy wanderers there. 
Fallen all beside — the world of life, 
How is it stained with fear and strife ! 
In Reason's world what storms are rife, 

What passions range and glare T 

But cheerful and unchanged the while 
Your first and perfect form ye shew, 
The same that won Eve's matron smile 

In the world's opening glow. 
The stars of Heaven a course are taught 
Too high above our human thought ; — 
Ye may be found if ye are sought, 
And as we gaze, we know. 



FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 743 

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, 

Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow. 
And guilty man, where'er he roams, 
Your innocent mirth may borrow. 
The birds of air before us fleet. 
They cannot brook our shame to meet — 
But we may taste your solace sweet 
And come again to-morrow. 

Ye fearless in your nests abide — 

Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, 
Your silent lessons, undescried 

By all but lowly eyes : 
For ye could draw the admiring gaze 
Of Him Who worlds and hearts surveys : 
Your order wild, your fragrant maze. 
He taught us how to prize. 

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour, 

As when He paused and owned you good. 
His blessing on earth's primal bower, 

Ye felt it all renewed. 
What care ye now, if winter's storm 
Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form } 
Christ's blessing at your heart is warm. 
Ye fear no vexing mood. 

Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind, 

That daily court you and caress. 
How few the happy secret find 

Of your calm loveliness ! 
" Live for to-day ! to-miorrow's light 
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight. 
Go sleep like closing fiowers at night. 

And Heaven thy morn will bless." 



146 SIXTEENTH SUN DA Y AFTER TRINITY. 



2r!)e Si):tecnt|) Suntiag after STrimtg, 

I desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you which is 
your glory. — Ephesians iii. 13. 

Wish not, dear friends, my pain away — 
Wish me a wise and thankful heart, 

With God, in all my griefs, to stay. 
Nor from His loved correction start. 

The dearest offering He can crave 
His portion in our souls to prove. 

What is it to the gift He gave. 
The only Son of His dear love ? 

But we, like vexed unquiet sprights. 
Will still be hovering o'er the tomb. 

Where buried lie our vain delights, 
Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom. 

In life's long sickness evermore 

Our thoughts are tossing to and fro : 

We change our posture o'er and o'er, 
But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe. 

Were it not better to lie still. 

Let Him strike home and bless the rod. 
Never so safe as when our will 

Yields undiscerned by all but God ? 

Thy precious things, whate'er they be. 
That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain, 

Look to the Cross, and thou shalt see 
How thou inayst turn them all to gain. 

Lovest thou praise ? the Cross is shame : 
Or ease ? the Cross is bitter grief : 

More pangs than tongue or heart can frame 
Were suffered there without relief. 



SEV.ENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 147 

We of that Altar would partake, 
But cannot quit the cost ; no throne 

Is ours, to leave for Thy dear sake — 
We cannot do as Thou hast done. 

We cannot part with Heaven for Thee ; 

Yet guide us in Thy track of love : 
Let us gaze on where light should be. 

Though not a beam the clouds remove. 

So wanderers ever fond and true 

Look homeward through the evening sky, 

Without a streak of heaven's soft blue 
To aid affection's dreaming eye. 

The wanderer seeks his native bower, 
And we will look and long for Thee, 

And thank Thee for each trying hour. 
Wishing, not struggling, to be free. 



2r!)0 Sebcnteentf) Sunlraa) after STrinitj?. 

Every man of the Jiouse of Israel that setteth up his idols 
in his hearty and putteth the stumblingblock of his iniquity 
before his face, and cometh to the prophet ; I the Lord will 
answer him that cometh according to the multitude of his 
idols. — EZEKIEL xiv. 4. 

Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers 
Which day and night before thine altars rise ; 

Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs, 
Flashed Sion's gilded dome to summer skies, 

Not holier, while around him angels bowed, 

From Aaron's censer steamed the spicy cloud 



148 SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Before the mercy-seat. O Mother dear, 
Wilt thou forgive thy son one boding sigh ? 

Forgive, if round thy towers he wall<; in fear. 
And tell thy jewels o'er with jealous eye ? 

Mindful of that sad vision, which in thought* 

From Chebar's plains the captive prophet brought 

To see lost Sion's shame. 'Twas morning prime, 
And like a Queen new seated on her throne, 

God's crowned mountain, as in happier time. 
Seemed to rejoice in sunshine all her own ; 

So bright, while all in shade around her lay, 

Her northern pinnacles had caught the emerging 
ray. 

The dazzling lines of her majestic roof 

Crossed with as free a span the vault of Heaven, 

As when twelve tribes knelt silently aloof 

Ere God His answer to their king had given,! 

Ere yet upon the new-built altar fell 

The glory of the Lord, the Lord of Israel. 

All seems the same: but enter in and see 

What idol shapes are on the wall portrayed : \ 

And watch their shameless and unholy glee, 
Who worship there in Aaron's robes arrayed : 

Hear Judah's maids the dirge to Thammuz pour,§ 

And mark her chiefs yon orient sun adore, || 

Yet turn thee, son of man, for worse than these 
Thou must behold : thy loathing were but lost 

On dead men's crimes and Jews' idolatries ; 

Come, learn to tell aright thine own sins' cost, — 

And sure their sin as far from equals thine. 

As earthly hopes abused are less than hopes divine. 

* Ezekiel viii. 3. t i Kings vili. 5. % Ezekie! vlii. 10. 

§ Ezekiel viii. 14. if Ezekiel viii. 16. 



SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 149 

What if within His world, His Church, our Lord 
Have entered thee, as in some temple gate, 

Where, looking round, each glance might thee 
afford 
Some glorious earnest of thine high estate. 

And thou, false heart and frail, hast turned from all 

To worship pleasure's shadow on the wall ? 

If, when the Lord of Glory was in sight, 

Thou turn thy back upon that fountain clear. 

To bow before the " little drop of light," 

Which dim-eyed men call praise and glory here ; 

What dost thou, but adore the sun, and scorn 

Him at Whose only word both sun and stars were 
born ? 

If, while around thee gales from Eden breathe. 
Thou hide thine eyes, to make thy peevish moan 

Over some broken reed of earth beneath. 
Some darling of blind fancy dead and gone. 

As wisely mightst thou in Jehovah's fane 

Offer thy love and tears to Thammuz slain. 

Turn thee from these, or dare not to inquire 
Of Him Whose name is Jealous, lest in wrath 

He hear and answer thine unblest desire : 

Far better we should cross His lightning's path 

Than be according to our idols heard, 

And God should take us at our own vain word. 

Thou Who hast deigned the Christian's heart to 
call 
Thy Church and Shrine ; whene'er our rebel v/ill 
Would in that chosen home of Thine install 

Belial or Mammon, grant us not the ill 
We blindly ask ; in very love refuse 
Whate'er Thou knowest our weakness would 
abuse. 



I50 EIGHTEENTH SUNDA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

Or rather help us, Lord, to choose the good. 
To pray for naught, to seek to none, but Thee, 

Nor by " our daily bread " mean common food. 
Nor say, " From this world's evil set us free ;" 

Teach us to love, with Christ, our sole true bliss, 

Else, though in Christ's own words, we surely pray 
amiss. 



Wqz 3Bis!)teentt) Sunl)a|) after Srinitg. 

/ will bring you i?ito the wilderness of the people^ and 
there will I plead with you face to face. Like as I pleaded 
with your fathers i?i the wilderness of the land of Egypt ^ so 
will I plead ivith you, saith the Lord God. — Ezekiel xx. 
35, 36. 

It is so ! ope thine eyes, and see — 
What view'st thou all around ? 

A desert, where iniquity 

And knowledge both abound. 

In the waste howling wilderness 

The Church is wandering still,* 
Because we would not onward press 
' When close to Sion's hill. 

Back to the world we faithless turned. 

And far along the wild. 
With labour lost and sorrow earned, 

Our steps have been beguiled. 

Yet full before us, all the while. 

The shadowing pillar stays, 
The living waters brightly smile. 

The eternal turrets blaze. 

* Revelation xii. 14. 



EIGHTEENTH SUNDA Y AFTER TRINITY. 151 

Yet Heaven is raining angels' bread 

To be our daily food, 
And fresh as when it first was shed 

Springs forth the Saviour's Blood. 

From every region, race, and speech 

Believing myriads throng, 
Till, far as sin and sorrow reach. 

Thy grace is spread along ; 

Till sweetest nature, brightest art, 

Their votive incense bring, 
And every voice and every heart 

Own Thee their God and King. 

All own ; but few, alas ! will love ; 

Too like the recreant band 
That with Thy patient Spirit strove 

Upon the Red Sea strand. 

O Father of longsuffering grace. 

Thou who hast sworn to stay 
Pleading with sinners face to face 

Through all their devious way. 

How shall we speak to Thee, O Lord, 

Or how in silence lie } 
Look on us, and we are abhorred, 

Turn from us, and we die. 

Thy guardian fire, Thy guiding cloud, 

Still let them gild our wall. 
Nor be our foes and Thine allowed 

To see us faint and fall. 

Too oft, within this camp of Thine, 

Rebellious murmurs rise ; 
Sin cannot bear to see Thee shine 

So awful to her eyes. 



IS2 EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Fain would our lawless hearts escape. 

And with the heathen be, 
To worship every monstrous shape 

In fancied darkness free. 

Vain thought, that shall not be at all !* 

Refuse we or obey, 
Our ears have heard the Almighty's call, 

We cannot be as they. 

We cannot hope the heathen's doom, 
To whom God's Son is given, 

Whose eyes have seen beyond the tomb, 
Who have the key of Heaven. 

Weak tremblers on the edge of woe, 
Yet shrinking from true bliss, 

Our rest must be '' no rest below," 
And let our prayer be this : 

" Lord, wave again Thy chastening rod. 

Till every idol throne 
Crumble to dust, and Thou, O God, 

Reign in our hearts alone. 

" Bring all our wandering fancies home. 

For Thou hast every spell. 
And 'mid the heathen where they roam, 

Thou knowest. Lord, too well. 

*'Thou knowest our service sad and hard, 
Thou knowest us fond and frail ; — 

Win us to be beloved and spared 
When all the world shall fail. 

* That which cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that ye 
say. We will be as the heathen, as the families of the countries, 
to serve wood and stone. — Ezekiel xx. 32. 



NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 153 

" So when at last our weary days 

Are well-nigh wasted here, 
And we can trace Thy wondrous ways 

In distance calm and clear, 

" When in Thy love and Israel's sin 

We read our story true, 
We may not, all too late, begin 

To wish our hopes were new : 

" Long loved, long tried, long spared as they. 

Unlike in this alone, 
That, by Thy grace, our hearts shall stay 

For evermore Thine own." 



2Ci)e Hiueteent!) .Suntiaj) after gTritiit^. 

Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonished^ a?td rose 
up in hasfe^ and spake ^ and said uftto his counsellors, Did not 
we cast three meii bound into the midst 0/ the fire ? They 
ansivered and said u?ito the king, True, O king. He 
a?tswered and said, Lo, I see four meii loose, walking in 
the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt ; atid the form 
of the fourth is like the Son of God. — Daniel iii. 24, 25. 

When Persecution's torrent blaze 

Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head ; 

When fade all earthly flowers and bays, 
When summer friends are gone and fled. 

Is he alone in that dark hour, 

Who owns the Lord of love and power ? 

Or waves there not around his brow 
A wand no human arm may wield, 

Fraught with a spell no angels know, 
His steps to guide, his soul to shield ? 

Thou, Saviour, art his charmed Bower, 

His magic Ring, his Rock, his Tower. 



154 NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

And when the wicked ones behold 
Thy favourites walking in Thy light, 

Just as, in fancied triumph bold, 

They deemed them lost in deadly night, 

Amazed they cry, " What spell is this. 

Which turns their sufferings all to bliss ? 

" How are they free whom we had bound ? 

Upright, whom in the gulf we cast ? 
What wondrous helper have they found 

To screen them from the scorching blast ? 
Three were they — who hath made them four, 
And sure a form divine he wore, 

" Even like the Son of God." So cried 
The tyrant, when in one fierce flame 

The martyrs lived, the murderers died : 
Yet knew he not what Angel came 

To make the rushing fire-flood seem 

Like summer breeze by woodland stream.* 

He knew not, but there are who know : 
The matron, who alone hath stood, 

When not a prop seemed left below. 
The first lorn hour of widowhood. 

Yet cheered and cheering all the while. 

With sad but unaffected smile ; — 

The father, who his vigil keeps 

By the sad couch whence hope hath flown, 
Watching the eye where reason sleeps, 

Yet in his heart can mercy own. 
Still sweetly yielding to the rod. 
Still loving man, still thanking God ; — 



* As it had been a moist whistling wind. — The Song of the Three 
Holy Children, ver. 27. 



TWENTIETH SUN DA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

The Christian pastor, bowed to earth 
With thankless toil, and vile esteemed, 

Still travailing in second birth 

Of souls that will not be redeemed, 

Yet steadfast set to do his part. 

And fearing most his own vain heart ; — 

These know : on these look long and well. 
Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith. 

And thou shalt know what secret spell 
Preserves them in their living death : 

Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see 

The Saviour walking with His faithful Three. 



Wqz STtoentiet^ Smitias after STrfnitj. 

Hear ye y Omou7ztat?is, the Lord''s controversy^ atid ye stt'ong- 
foundations of the earth. — Micah vi. 2. 

Where is thy favoured haunt, eternal Voice, 

The region of Thy choice. 
Where, undisturbed by sin and earth, the soul 

Owns Thine entire control? — 
'Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high. 

When storms are hurrying by : 
'Tis 'mid the strong foundations of the earth. 

Where torrents have their birth. 

No sounds of worldly toil ascending there 

Mar the full burst of prayer ; 
Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe, 

And round us and beneath 
Are heard her sacred tones : the fitful sweep 

Of winds across the steep, 
Through withered bents — romantic note and clear^ 

Meet for a hermit's ear : 



156 TWENTIETH SUN DA Y AFTER . TRINITY. 

The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry, 

And, scarcely heard so high, 
The dashing waters, when the air is still. 

From many a torrent rill 
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell. 

Tracked by the blue mist well : 
Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart, 

For Thought to do her part. 

'Tis then we hear the voice of God within, 

Pleading w^ith care and sin : 
" Child of My love ! how have I w^earied thee ? 

Why wilt thou err from Me ? 
Have I not brought thee from the house of slaves, 

Parted the drowning waves, 
And sent My Saints before thee in the way. 

Lest thou shouldst faint or stray ? 

"What ! was the promise made to thee alone? 

Art thou the excepted one ? 
An heir of glory without grief or pain ? 

O vision false and vain ! 
There lies thy cross ; beneath it meekly bow ; 

It fits thy stature now : 
Who scornful pass it with averted eye, 

'Twill crush them by and by. 

" Raise thy repining eyes, and take true measure 

Of thine eternal treasure ; 
The Father of thy Lord can grudge thee naught. 

The world for thee was bought. 
And as this landscape broad — earth, sea, and sky, 

All centres in thine eye. 
So all God does, if rightly understood. 

Shall work thy final good." 



TWENTY FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 157 



Sl)e 2Ctocnt2=fir0t Sunliag after STrtnitg, 

The vision is yet for ait appoijtted time^ but at the end it 
shall speak, and not lie : tliotcgh it tarry , wait for it ; be- 
cause it will surely come^ it will not tarry. — Habakkuk 
ii. 3. 

The morning mist is cleared away, 

Yet still the face of Heaven is grey, 
Nor yet the autumnal breeze has stirred the grove, 

Faded yet full, a paler green 

Skirts soberly the tranquil scene, 
The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove. 

vSweet messenger of " calm decay," 

Saluting sorrow as you may. 
As one still bent to find or make the best ; 

In thee, and in this quiet mead. 

The lesson of sweet peace I read, 
Rather in all to be resigned than blest. 

'Tis a low chant, according well 

With the soft solitary knell, 
As homeward from some grave beloved we turn. 

Or by some holy death-bed dear, 

Most welcome to the chastened ear 
Of her whom Heaven is teaching how to mourn. 

O cheerful, tender strain ! the heart 

That duly bears with you its part. 
Singing so thankful to the dreary blast. 

Though gone and spent its joyous prime, 

And on the world's autumnal time, 
'Mid withered hues and sere, its lot be cast : 

That is the heart for thoughtful seer. 
Watching, in trance nor dark nor clear,* 

* It shall come to pass in that day, that the night shall not be 
clear, nor dark. — Zechariah xiv. 6. 



158 TWENTY-FIRST SUN DA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

The astounding- Future as it nearer draws : 
His spirit calmed the storm to meet, 
Feeling the rock beneath his feet, 

And tracing through the cloud the eternal Cause. 

That is the heart for watchman true 

Waiting to see what God will do, 
As o'er the Church the gathering twilight falls : 

No more he strains his wistful eye, 

If chance the golden hours be nigh, 
By youthful Hope seen beaming round her walls. 

Forced from his shadowy paradise. 

His thoughts to Heaven the steadier rise : 
There seek his answer when the world reproves : 

Contented in his darkling round, 

If only he be faithful found. 
When from the east the eternal morning moves.* 



* Note. — The expression, " calm decaj'," is borrowed from a 
friend : by whose kind permission the following stanzas are here 
inserted. 

TO THE RED-BREAST. 

Unheard in summer's flaring ray, 

Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer, 
Wooing the stillness of the autumn day : 

Bid it a moment linger, 
Nor fly 
Too soon from winter's scowling eye. 

The blackbird's song at eventide, 

And hers, who gay ascends, 
Filling the heavens far and wide, 
' Are sweet. But none so blends, 

As thine. 
With calm decay, and peace divine. 



TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 159 



Wtit 2Ctoent5*seconrj ^unlias after ^Tvinitj?, 

Lord how oft shall my brother sin against me, and J 
' forgive him .?— S. Matthew xviii. 21. 

What liberty so glad and gay 
As where the mountain boy. 

Reckless of regions far away, 
A prisoner lives in joy ? 

The dreary sounds of crowded earth, 
The cries of camp or town, 

Never untuned his lonely mirth, 
Nor drew his visions down. 

The snow-clad peaks of rosy light 
That meet his morning view, 

The thwarting cliffs that bound his sight. 
They bound his fancy too. 

Two ways alone his roving eye 

For aye may onward go. 
Or in the azure deep on high. 

Or darksome mere below. 

O blest restraint ! m.ore blessed range ! 

Too soon the happy child 
His nook of homely thought will change 

For life's seducing wild : 

Too soon his altered day-dreams shew 
This earth a boundless space, 

With sun-bright pleasures to and fro 
Sporting in joyous race : 

While of his narrowing heart each year 
Heaven less and less will fill, 

Less keenly, through his grosser ear, 
The tones of mercy thrill. 



i6o TWENTY-THIRD SUNDA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

It must be so : else wherefore falls 
The Saviour's voice unheard, 

While from His pardoning Cross He calls, 
" O spare as I have spared ?" 

By our own niggard rule we try 
The hope to suppliants given ; 

We mete our love, as if our eye 
Saw to the end of Heaven. 

Yes, ransomed sinner ! would'st thou know 

How often to forgive, 
How dearly to embrace thy foe, 

Look where thou hop'st to live ; 

When thou hast told those isles of light, 

And fancied all beyond. 
Whatever owns, in depth or height, 

Creation's wondrous bond ; 

Then in their solemn pageant learn 
Sweet mercy's praise to see : 

Their Lord resigned them all, to earn 
The bliss of pardoning thee. 



W^z 2riD£tit2*t1)irtJ Sutiliaw after STrmits, 

Who shall change our vile body, that it may be /ashioned 
like unto hi' glorious body, according to the ivorkijig where- 
by he is able even to subdue all things unto himself. — Phi- 

LIPPIANSiii. 21. 

Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun. 
The line of yellow light dies fast away 

That crowned the eastern copse : and chill and dun 
Falls on the moor the brief November day. 



TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. i6i 

Now the tired hunter winds a parting" note, 
And Echo bids good-night from every glade ; 

Yet wait awhile, and see the calm leaves float 
Each to his rest beneath their parent shade. 

How like decaying life they seem to glide ! 

And yet no second spring have they in store. 
But where they fall forgotten to abide 

Is all their portion, and they ask no more. 

Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing, 
A thousand wild-flowers round them shall unfold, 

The green buds ghsten in the dews of Spring, 
And all be vernal rapture as of old. 

Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie. 

In all the world of busy life around 
No thought of them ; in all the bounteous sky 

No drop, for them, of kindly influence found. 

Man's portion is to die and rise again — 

Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring part 

With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain, 
As his when Eden held his virgin heart. 

And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice 
Might sound in Heaven, were all his second life 

Only the first renewed — the heathen's choice, 
A round of listless joy and weary strife. 

For dreary were this earth, if earth were all, 

Though brightened oft by dearaft'ection's kiss ; — 

Who for the spangles wears the funeral pall } 
But catch a gleam beyond it, and 'tis bliss. 

Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart. 
Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or borne 

On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart 

O'er wave or field : yet breezes laugh to scorn. 



i62 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, 
And fish, like living shafts that pierce the main, 

And stars that shoot through freezing air at even— 
Who but would follov^, might he break his chain ? 

And thou shalt break it soon ; the grovelling worm 
Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free 

As his transfigured Lord —with lightning form 
And snowy vest ; such grace He won for thee, 

When from the grave He sprung at dawn of morn, 
And led through boundless air thy conquering 
road, 

Leaving a glorious track, Vv^here saints new-born 
Might fearless follow to their blest abode. 

But first, by many a stern and fiery blast 

The world's rude furnace must thy blood refine, 

And many a gale of keenest woe be passed, 
Till every pulse beat true to airs divine ; 

Till every Hmb obey the mounting soul. 
The mounting soul, the call by Jesus given. 

He Who the stormy heart can so control. 
The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven. 



Wiyz STtoents^fourtt) Sunfiap after STrinit^, 

The heart kno-joeth his own bitterness ; mid a stranger 
doth not intermeddle with his joy. — Proverbs xiv. lo. 

Why should we faint and fear to live alone. 
Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die,* 

Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own, 
Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh ? 

* Je mourrai seul. — Pascal. 



TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 163 

Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe 
Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart. 

Our e3'^es see all around in gloom or glow — 

Hues of their own, fresh borrowed from the heart. 

And well it is for us our God should feel 
Alone our secret throbbings : so our prayer 

May readier spring to Heaven, nor spend its zeal 
On cloud-born idols of this lower air. 

For if one heart in perfect sympathy 

Beat with another, answering love for love, 

Weak mortals, all entranced, on earth would lie, 
Nor listen for those purer strains above. 

Or what if Heaven for once its searching light 
Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all 

The rude bad thoughts that in our bosom's night 
Wander at large, nor heed Love's gentle thrall ? 

Who would not shun the dreary uncouth place ? 

As if, fond leaning where her infant slept, 
A mother's arm a serpent should embrace : 

So might we friendless live, and die unwept. 

Then keep the softening veil in mercy drawn. 
Thou Who canst love us, though Thou read us true ; 

As on the bosom of the aerial lawn 

Melts in dim haze each coarse ungentle hue. 

So too may soothing Hope Thy leave enjoy 
Sweet visions of long severed hearts to frame : 

Though absence may impair, or cares annoy. 
Some constant mind may draw us still the same. 

We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro, 
Pine with regret, or sicken with despair. 

The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow. 
And with our memory wings her own fond prayer. 



i64 TWENTY-FOURTH SUN DA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

O bliss of child-like innocence, and love 
Tried to old age ! creative power to win, 

And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove, 
Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin. 

Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are 
clear, 
Their memory cheering : but the earth-stained 
spright, 
Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear, 
Must hover nearer earth, and less in light. 

Farewell, for her, the ideal scenes so fair — 

Yet not farewell her hope, since Thou hast 
deigned, 
Creator of all hearts ! to own and share 

The woe of what Thou mad'st and we have 
stained. 

Thou know'st our bitterness — our joys are Thine ; "^ 
No stranger Thou to all our wanderings Vv^ild : 

Nor could we bear to think how every line 
Of us, Thy darkened likeness and defiled, 

Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye. 

But that Thou call'st us Brethren : sweet repose 

Is in that word ! the Lord Who dvv^ells on high 
Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows. 

* Thou hast known my soul in adversities. — Psalm xxxi. 7. 



TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 165 



7"/^^ ^tJi^r)/ head is a croivn of glory, if it be found in the 
way of righteousness. — Proverbs xvi, 31. 

The bright-haired morn is glowing 

O'er emerald meadows gay, 
With many a clear gem strowing 

The early shepherd's way. 
Ye gentle elves, by fancy seen 

Stealing away with night 
To slumber in your leafy screen. 

Tread more than airy light. 

And see what joyous greeting 

The sun through Heaven has shed, 
Though fast yon shovv^er be fleeting. 

His beams have faster sped. 
For lo ! above the western haze 

High towers the rainbow arch 
In solid span of purest rays : 

How stately is its march ! 

Pride of the dewy morning ! 

The swain's experienced eye 
From thee takes timely warning. 

Nor trusts the gorgeous sky. 
For well he knows, such dawnings gay 

Bring noons of storm and shower, 
And travellers linger on the way 

Beside the sheltering bower. 

Even so, in hope and trembling, 
Should watchful shepherd view 

His little lambs assembling 

With glance both kind and true ; 



i66 TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

'Tis not the eye of keenest blaze, 
Nor the quick-swelHng breast, 

That soonest thrills at touch of praise — 
These do not please him best. 

But voices low and gentle, 

And timid glances shy, 
That seems for age parental 

To sue all wistfully, 
Still pressing, longing to be right, 

Yet fearing to be wrong — 
In these the pastor dares delight, 

A lamb-like, Christ-like throng. 

These in Life's distant even 

Shall shine serenely bright, 
As in the autumnal Heaven 

Mild rainbow tints at night, 
When the last shower is stealing down. 

And ere they sink to rest. 
The sunbeams weave a parting crown 

For some sweet woodland nest. 

The promise of the morrow 

Is glorious on that eve. 
Dear as the holy sorrow 

When good men cease to live. 
When brightening ere it die away 

Mounts up their altar flame, 
Still tending with intenser ray 

To Heaven whence first it came. 



Say not it dies — that glory ! 

'Tis caught unquenched on high, 
Those saintlike brows so hoary, 

Shall wear it in the skv. 



SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 167 

No smile is like the smile of death, 

When all good musings past 
Rise wafted with the parting breath, 

The sweetest thought the last. 



3ri)e SuEtrag my.t before ^Ubent* 

Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be 
lost. — S. John vi. 12. 

Will God indeed with fragments bear 
Snatched late from the decaying year ? 
Or can the Saviour's blood endear 

The dregs of a polluted life ? 
When down the o'erwhelming current tossed, 
Just ere he sink for ever lost, 
The sailor's untried arms are crossed 
In agonizing prayer, will ocean cease her strife ? 

Sighs that exhaust but not relieve. 
Heart-rending sighs, O spare to heave 
A besom freshly taught to grieve 

For lavished hours and love misspent ! 
Now through her round of holy thought 
The Church our annual steps has brought. 
But we no holy fire have caught — 
Back on the gaudy world our wilful eyes were bent. 

Too soon the ennobling carols, poured 
To hymn the birth-night of the Lord, 
Which duteous Memory should have stored 

For thankful echoing all the year — 
Too soon those airs have passed away ; 
Nor long within the heart would stay 
The silence of Christ's dying day, 
Profaned by worldly mirth, or scared by worldly fear. 



i68 SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 

Some strain of hope and victory 
On Easter wings might lift us high ; 
A Uttle while we sought the sky : 

And when the Spirit's beacon fires 
On every hill began to blaze, 
Lightening the world with glad amaze. 
Who but must kindle while they gaze ? 
But faster than she soars our earth-bound Fancy 
tires. 

Nor yet for these, nor all the rites 
By which our Mother's voice invites 
Our God to bless our home delights. 
And sweeten every secret tear : — 
The funeral dirge, the marriage vow. 
The hallowed font where parents bow. 
And now elate, and trembling now, 
To the Redeemer's feet their new-found treasures 
bear : — 

Not for the Pastor's gracious arm 
Stretched out to bless — a Christian charm 
To dull the shafts of worldly harm : — 

Nor, sweetest, holiest, best of all, 
For the dear feast of Jesus dying, 
Upon that altar ever lying. 
Where souls with sacred hunger sighing 
Arecalled to sit and eat, while angels prostrate fall :— 

No, not for each and all of these 
Have our frail spirits found their ease, 
The gale that stirs the autumnal trees 
Seems tuned as truly to our hearts 
As when, tv/elve weary months ago, 
'Twas moaning bleak, so high and low, 
You would have thought Remorse and Woe 
Had taught the innocent air their sadly thrilling 
parts. 



- SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 169 

Is it Christ's light is too divine, 

We dare not hope like Him to shine ? 

But see, around His dazzling shrine 

Earth's gems the fire of Heaven have caught ; 
Martyrs and Saints — each glorious day 
Dawning in order on our way — 
Remind us how our darksome clay 
May keep the ethereal warmth our new Creator 
brought. 

These we have scorned, O false and frail ! 
And now once more the appalling tale, 
How love divine may woo and fail, 

Of our lost year in Heaven is told : 
What if as far our life were past, 
Our weeks all numbered to the last. 
With time and hope behind us cast. 
And all our work to do with palsied hands and 
cold 

O watch and pray ere Advent dawn ! 
For thinner than the subtlest lawn 
'Twixt thee and death the veil is drawn. 
But Love too late can never glow : 
The scattered fragments love can glean. 
Refine the dregs, and yield us clean 
To regions where one thought serene 
Breathes sweeter than whole years of sacrifice be- 
low. 



170 5. ANDREWS DAY. 



He first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto 
him, We have found the Messias, which is, bei?ig in- 
terpreted, the Christ. And he brought him, to jfesus. — 
S. John i. 41, 42. 

When brothers part for manhood's race, 
What gift may most endearing prove 

To keep fond memory in her place, 
And certify a brother's love ? 

'Tis true, bright hours together told, 
And blissful dreams in secret shared, 

Serene or solemn, gay or bold, 
Shall last in fancy unimpaired. 

Even round the death-bed of the good 
Such dear remembrances will hover. 

And haunt us with no vexing mood 
When all the cares of earth are over. 

But yet our craving spirits feel. 

We shall live on, though Fancy die, 

And seek a surer pledge — a seal 
Of love to last eternally. 

Who art thou, that wouldst grave thy name 
Thus deeply in a brother's heart ? 

Look on this Saint, and learn to frame 
Thy love-charm with true Christian art. 

First seek thy Saviour out, and dwell 
Beneath the shadow of His roof, 

Till thou have scanned His features well 
And known Him for the Christ by proof ; 



6; THOMAS THE APOSTLE. 171 

Such proof as they are sure to find, 

Who spend with Him their happy days, 

Clean hands, and a self-ruling- mind 
Ever in tune for love and praise. 

Then, potent with the spell of Heaven, 
Go, and thine erring brother gain, 

Entice him home to be forgiven, 
Till he, too, see his Saviour plain. 

Or if before thee in the race, 

Urge him with thine advancing tread, 

Till, like twin stars, with even pace, 
Each lucid course be duly sped. 

No fading frail memorial give 

To soothe his soul when thou art gone, 
But wreaths of hope for aye to live, 

And thoughts of good together done. 

That so, before the judgment-seat. 

Though changed and glorified each face. 

Not unremembered ye may meet 
For endless ages to embrace. 



Thomas^ because thou hast seeji me, thou hast believed : 
blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed. — 
S. John xx. 29. 

We were not by when Jesus came, * 

But round us, far and near, 
We see His trophies, and His Name 

In choral echoes hear. 

* Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them 
when Jesus came. — S. John xx. 24. 



172 3". THOMAS THE APOSTLE, 

In a fair ground our lot is cast. 
As in the solemn week that past. 
While some might doubt, but all adored,* 
Ere the whole widowed Church had seen her risen 
Lord. 

Slowly, as then, His bounteous hand 

The golden chain unwinds. 
Drawing to Heaven with gentlest band 

Wise hearts and loving minds. 
Love sought Him first ; at dawn of mornf 
From her sad couch she sprang forlorn. 
She sought to weep with Thee alone, 
And saw Thine open grave, and knew that Thou 
wert gone. 

Reason and Faith at once set out J 

To search the Saviour's tomb ; 
Faith faster runs, but waits without. 

As fearing to presume 
Till Reason enter in, and trace 
Christ's relics round the holy place — 
" Here lay His limbs, and here His sacred head, 
And who was by, to make His new-forsaken 
bed.?" 

Both wonder, one believes — but while 

They muse on all at home. 
No thought can tender Love beguile 

From Jesus' grave to roam. 
Weeping she stays till He appear — 
Her witness first the Church must hear- 
All joy to souls that can rejoice 
With her at earliest call of His dear gracious voice. 

* When they saw him, they worshipped him : but some doubted. 
— S. Matthew xxviii. 17. 
t S. Mary Magdalene's visit to the sepulchre. 
X S. Peter and S. John. 



S. THOMAS THE APOSTLE. 173 

Joy too to those who love to talk 

In secret how He died, 
Though with sealed eyes, awhile they walk, 

Nor see Him at their side ; 
Most Hke the faithful pair are they, 
Who once to Emmaus took their way. 
Half darkling-, till their Master shed 
His glory on their souls, made known in breaking 
bread. 

Thus, ever brighter and more bright, 

On those He came to save 
The Lord of new-created light 

Dawned gradual from the grave : 

Till past the enquiring daylight hour. 

And with closed door in silent bower 

The Church in anxious musing sate, 

As one who for redemption still had long to 

wait. 

Then, gliding through the unopening door. 

Smooth without step or sound, 
" Peace to your souls !" He said — no more ; 

They own Him, kneeling round. 
Eye, ear, and hand, and loving heart. 
Body and soul in every part, 
Successive made His witnesses that hour. 
Cease not in all the world to show His saving power. 

Is there, on earth, a spirit frail. 

Who fears to take their word. 
Scarce daring, through the twilight pale, 

To think he sees the Lord? 
With eyes too tremblingly awake 
To bear with dimness for His sake 
Read and confess the Hand Divine 
That drev/ thy likeness here so true in every line. 



174 CONVERSION OF S. PAUL. 

For all thy rankling doubts so sore, 

Love thou thy Saviour still, 
Him for thy Lord and God adore, 

And ever do His will. 
Though vexing thoughts may seem to last, 
Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast ; — 
Soon will He show thee all His wounds and say, 
" Long have I known thy name* — know thou My 

face alway." 



And he fell to the earthy and heard a voice saying tmto 
him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou 7ne ? And he said. 
Who art thou, Lord ? And the Lord said, I am Jesus 
whom thou persecutest. — Acts ix. 4, 5. 

The midday sun, with fiercest glare. 
Broods o'er the hazy, twinkling air ; 

Along the level sand 
The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies. 
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise 

To greet yon wearied band. 

The leader of that martial crew 
Seems bent some mighty deed to do. 

So steadily he speeds, 
With lips firm closed and fix^d eye. 
Like warrior when the fight is nigh. 

Nor talk nor landscape heeds. 



* In Exodus xxxiii. 17, God says to Moses, " I know thee by- 
name ;" meaning, " I bear especial favour towards thee." Thus 
our Saviour speaks to S. Thomas by name in the place here re- 
ferred to. 



\CONk'ERSION OF S. PA UL. 175 

What sudden blaze is round him poured, 
As though all Heaven's refulgent hoard 

In one rich glory shone ? 
One moment — and to earth he falls : 
What voice his inmost heart appalls ? — 

Voice heard by him alone. 

For to the rest both words and form 
Seem lost in lightning and in storm, 

While Saul, in wakeful trance. 
Sees deep within that dazzling field 
His persecuted Lord revealed 

With keen yet pitying glance : 

And hears the meek upbraiding call 
As gently on his spirit fall, 

As if the Almighty Son 
Were prisoner yet in this dark earth. 
Nor had proclaimed His royal birth, 

Nor His great power begun. 

" Ah ! wherefore persecut'st thou me ?" 
He heard and saw, and sought to free 

His strained eye from the sight : 
But Heaven's high magic bound it there, 
Still gazing, though untaught to bear 

The unsufferable light. 

" Who art Thou, Lord ?" he falters forth: — 
So shall Sin ask of Heaven and earth 

At the last awful day. 
" When did we see Thee suffering nigh,* 
And passed Thee with unheeding eye } 

Great God of judgment, say !" 

* S. Matthew xxv. 44. 



176 CONVERSION OF S. PA UL. 

Ah ! little dream our listless eyes 
What glorious presence they despise, 

While, in our noon of life, 
To power or fame we rudely press : — 
Christ is at hand, to scorn or bless, 

Christ suffers in our strife. 

And though Heaven's gate long since have closed? 
And our dear Lord in bliss reposed 

High above mortal ken. 
To every ear in every land 
(Though meek ears only understand) 

He speaks as He did then. 

" Ah ! wherefore persecute ye Me } 
'Tis hard, ye so in love should be 

With your own endless woe. 
Know, though at God's right hand I live, 
I feel each wound ye reckless give 

To the least saint below. 

*' I in your care my brethren left. 
Not willing ye should be bereft 

Of waiting on your Lord. 
The meanest offering ye can make — 
A drop of water — for love's sake,* 

In Heaven, be sure, is stored." 

O by those gentle tones and dear, 
When thou hast stayed our wild car 

Thou only hope of souls, 
Ne'er let us cast one look behind. 
But in the thought of Jesus find 

What every thought controls. 

♦ S. Matthew x. 42. 



-PURIFICATION OF S. MARY THE VIRGIN. 177 

As to Thy last Apostle's heart 

Thy lightning glance did then impart 

Zeal's never-dying lire, 
So teach us on Thy shrine to lay 
Our hearts, and let them day by day 

Intenser blaze and higher. 

And as each mild and winning note 
(Like pulses that round harp-strings float 

When the full strain is o'er) 
Left hngering on his inward ear 
Music, that taught, as death drew near, 

Love's lesson more and more : 

So, as we walk our earthly round, 
Still may the echo of that sound 

Be in our memory stored : 
" Christians ! behold your happy state : 
Christ is in these who round you wait ; 

Make much of your dear Lord !" 



2rt)e 3Pwnffcatioti of .S« iWar^ tije Uirflin. 

Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see God.- 
S. Matthew v. 8. 

Blessed are the pure in heart. 
For they shall see our God, 
The secret of the Lord is theirs, 
Their soul is Christ's abode. 

Might mortal thought presume 
To guess an angel's lay. 
Such are the notes that echo through 
The courts of Heaven to-day. 



178 PURIFICATION OF S. MARY THE VIRGIN. 

Such the triumphal hymns 
On Sion's Prince that wait, 
In high procession passing on 
Towards His temple-gate. 

Give ear, ye kings — bow down, 
Ye rulers of the earth — 
This, this is He ! your Priest by grace. 
Your God and King by birth. 

No pomp of earthly guards 
Attends with sword and spear, 
And all-defying, dauntless look, 
Their monarch's way to clear : 

Yet are there more with Him 
Than all that are with you — 
The armies of the highest Heaven, 
All righteous, good, and true. 

Spotless their robes and pure, 
Dipped in the sea of light 
That hides the unapproached shrine 
From men's and angels' sight. 

His throne, thy bosom blest, 
O Mother undefiled ! 
That throne, if aught beneath the skies. 
Beseems the sinless Child. 

Lost in high thoughts, " whose son 
The wondrous Babe might prove," 
Her guileless husband walks beside, 
Bearing the hallowed dove ; 

Meet emblem of His vow. 
Who, on this happy day. 
His dove-like soul — best sacrifice — 
Did on God's altar lay. 



PURIFICA TION OF S. MARY THE VIRGIN. 179 

But who is he, by years 
Bowed, but erect in heart, 
Whose prayers are struggling with his tears ? 
" Lord, let me now depart. 

" Now hath thy servant seen 
Thy saving health, O Lord ; 
'Tis time that 1 depart in peace. 
According to Thy word." 

Yet swells the pomp : one more 
Comes forth to bless her God : 
Full fourscore years, meek widow, she 
Her heavenward way hath trod. 

She who to earthly joys 
So long had given farewell, 
Now sees, unlooked for. Heaven on earth, 
Christ in His Israel. 

Wide open from that hour 
The temple-gates are set. 
And still the saints rejoicing there 
The holy Child have met. 

Now count His train to-day. 
And who may meet Him, learn : 
Him child-like sires, meek maidens find, 
Where pride can naught discern. 

Still to the lowly soul 
He doth Himself impart. 
And for His cradle and His throne 
Chooseth the pure in heart. 



x8o S. MATTHIAS' DAY. 



S. p[attt)ias' ©aa?« 

Wkere/of-e of these men which have companied with us 
all the time that the Lord Jesus went in a?td out among 
us, beginning /f'om the baptism of John, unto that same 
day that he was taken up from us, must one be ordained to 
be a witness with us of his resurrection. — Acts i. 21, 22. 

Who is God's chosen priest ? 
He who on Christ stands waiting day and night, 
Who traced His holy steps, nor ever ceased, 
From Jordan banks to Bethphage height : 

Who hath learned lowliness 
From his Lord's cradle, patience from His Cross ; 
Whom poor men's eyes and hearts consent to bless ; 
To whom, for Christ, the world is loss ; 

Who both in agony 
Hath seen Him and in glory ; and in both 
Owned Him divine, and yielded, nothing loth, 
Body and soul, to live and die, 

In witness of his Lord, 
In humble following of his Saviour dear : 
This is the man to wield the unearthly sword. 
Warring unharmed with sin and fear. 

But who can e'er sufifice — 
What mortal — for this more than angels' task, 
Winning or losing souls. Thy life-blood's price ? 
The gift were too divine to ask. 

But Thou hast made it sure 
By Thy dear promise to Thy Church and Bride, 
That Thou, on earth, wouldst aye with her endure, 
Till earth to Heaven be purified. 



vJ. MATTHIAS' DAY. i8i 

Thou art her only Spouse, 
Whose arm supports her, on Whose faithful breast 
Her persecuted head she meekly bows, 
Sure pledge of her eternal rest. 

Thou, her unerring Guide, 
Stayest her fainting steps along the wild ; 
Thy mark is on the bowers of lust and pride, 
That she may pass them undefiled. 

Who then, uncalled by Thee, 
Dare touch Thy spouse. Thy very self below ? 
Or who dare count him summoned worthily, 
Except Thine hand and seal he shew ? 

Where can Thy seal be found, 
But on the chosen seed, from age to age 
By Thine anointed heralds duly crowned, 
As kings and priests Thy war to wage ? 

Then fearless walk we forth. 
Yet full of trembling. Messengers of God : 
Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth. 
By our own shame alike and glory awed. 

Dread Searcher of the hearts, 
Thou Who didst seal by Thy descending Dove 
Thy servant's choice, O help us in our parts, 

Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy love. 



i82 ANNUNCIATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. 



2ri)e Annunciation of t|)e BlesseU Uivsin J^axa?* 

And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou 
that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee : blessed art 
thou among women. — S. Luke i. 28. 

Oh ! Thou Who deign'st to sympathise 
With all our frail and fleshly ties, 

Maker yet Brother dear, 
Forgive the too presumptuous thought, 
If, calming wayward grief, I sought 

To gaze on Thee too near. 

Yet sure 'twas not presumption, Lord, 
'Twas Thine own comfortable word 

That made the lesson known : 
Of all the dearest bonds we prove. 
Thou countest sons' and mothers' love 

Most sacred, most Thine own. 

When wandering here a little span, 
Thou tookst on Thee to rescue man, 

Thou hadst no earthly sire : 
That wedded love we prize so dear, 
As if our Heaven and home Vv'ere here. 

It lit in Thee no fire. 

On no sweet sister's faithful breast 
Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest. 

On no kind brother lean : 
But who, O perfect filial heart. 
E'er did like Thee a true son's part, 

Endearing, firm, serene } 

Thou weptst, meek Maiden, Mother mild, 
Thou weptst upon thy sinless Child, 
Thy very heart was riven : 



ANNUNCIATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. 183 

And yet, what mourning matron here 
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear 
By all on this side Heaven ? 

A son that never did amiss, 

That never shamed His Mother's kiss, 

Nor crossed her fondest prayer : 
Even from the Tree He deigned to bow 
For her His agonized brow, 

Her, His sole earthly care. 

Ave Maria ! blessed Maid ! 
Lily of Eden's fragrant shade, 

Who can express the love 
That nurtured thee so pure and sweet, 
Making thy heart a shelter meet 

For Jesus' holy Dove ? 

Ave Maria ! Mother blest, 

To whom caressing and caressed, 

Clings the Eternal Child ; 
Favoured beyond archangels' dream. 
When first on thee with tenderest gleam 

Thy new-born Saviour smiled : — 

Ave Maria ! thou whose name 
All but adoring love may claim. 

Yet may we reach thy shrine ; 
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows 
To crown all lowly lofty brows 

With love and joy like thine. 

Blessed is the womb that bare Him — blessed* 
The bosom where His lips were pressed ! — 

But rather blessed are they 
Who hear His word and keep it well, 
The Hving homes where Christ shall dwell 

And never pass away. 

* S. Luke xi. 27, 28. 



i84 S. MARICS DAY. 



Si, J^arlt's 3Bag. 

And the contention was so sharp between them that they 
departed asunder one from the other. — Acts xv. 39. 

Cf. 2 Timothy iv. 11. Take Mark, and bring hi'm with 
thee : for he is profitable to me for the ministry. 

Oh ! who shall dare in this frail scene 
On holiest, happiest thoughts to lean, 

On friendship, kindred, or on love ? 
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp 
Each other in so firm a grasp, 

But they shall change and variance prove. 

Yet deem not, on such parting sad 
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad : 

Divided in their earthly race, 
Together at the glorious goal, 
Each leading many a rescued soul. 

The faithful champions shall embrace. 

For even as those mysterious Four, 
Who the bright whirling wheels upbore 

By Chebar in the fiery blast,* 
So, on their tasks of love and praise 
The Saints of God their several ways 

Right onward speed, yet join at last. 

And sometimes even beneath the moon 
The Saviour gives a gracious boon, 

When reconciled Christians meet. 
And face to face, and heart to heart, 
High thoughts of holy love impart 

In silence meek, or converse sweet. 



* They turned not when they went ; they went every on« 
straight forward. — Ezekiel i. 9, 



- S. PHILIP AND S. JAMES'S DAY. 185 

Companion of the Saints ! 'twas thine 
To taste that drop of peace divine, 

When the great soldier of thy Lord 
Called thee to take his last farewell, 
Teaching the Church with joy to tell 

The story of your love restored. 

O then the glory and the bliss, 
When all that pained or seemed amiss 

Shall melt with earth and sin away ! 
When Saints beneath their Saviour's eye, 
Filled with each other's company, 

Shall spend in love the eternal day ! 



Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is exalted ; 
but the rich, in that he is made low. — S. James i, 9, 10. 

Dear is the morning gale of spring. 
And dear the autumnal eve ; 

But few delights can summer bring 
A poet's crown to weave. 

Her bowers are mute, her fountains dr}% 

And ever Fancy's wing 
Speeds from beneath her cloudless sky 

To autumn or to spring. 

Sweet is the infant's waking smile. 
And sweet the old man's rest — 

But middle age by no fond wile, 
No soothing calm is blest. 



i86 S. PHILIP AND S. JAMES'S DAY. 

Still in the world's hot restless gleam 
She plies her weary task, 

While vainly for some pleasant dream 
Her wandering glances ask. — 

O shame upon thee, listless heart, 

So sad a sigh to heave, 
As if thy Saviour had no part 

In thoughts that make thee grieve. 

As if along His lonesome way 
He had not borne for thee 

Sad languors through the summer day, 
Storms on the wintry sea. 

Youth's lightning-fiash of joy secure 
Passed seldom o'er His spright, 

A well of serious thought and pure. 
Too deep for earthly light. 

No spring was His — no fairy gleam — 

For He by trial knew 
How cold and bare what mortals dream. 

To worlds where all is true. 



Then grudge not thou the anguish keen 
Which makes thee like thy Lord, 

And learn to quit with eye serene 
Thy youth's ideal hoard. 

Thy treasured hopes and raptures high- 
Unmurmuring let them go, 

Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly 
Which Christ disdained to know. 



S. BARNABAS THE APOSTLE. 187 

Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon ; 

The pure, cahn hope be thine, 
Which brightens, like the eastern moon, 

As day's wild lights decline. 

Thus souls, by nature pitched too high, 
By sufferings plunged too low, 

Meet in the Church's middle sky. 
Half way 'twixt joy and woe. 

To practise there the soothing lay 

That sorrow best relieves : 
Thankful for all God takes away. 

Humbled by all He gives. 



The son 0/ cottsolaiwn, a Levite. — Acts iv. 36, 

The world's a room of sickness, where each heart 

Knows its own anguish and unrest ; 
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, 

Is his who skills of comfort best ; 
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone 
Enfeebled spirits own, 
And love to raise the languid eye, 
When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting 
by:- 

Feel only — for in silence gently gliding 
Fain would he shun both ear and sight, 

'Twixt prayer and watchful love his heart divid- 
ing, 
A nursing-father day and night. 



1 88 S. BARNABAS THE APOSTLE. 

Such were the tender arms where cradled lay, 
In her sweet natal day, 
The Church of Jesus ; such the love 
He to His chosen taught for His dear widowed 
Dove. 



Warmed underneath the Comforter's safe wing 
They spread the endearing warmth around : 
Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring, 

Here healing dews and balms abound : 
Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain, 
By trial taught your pain : 
Here loving hearts, that daily know 
The heavenly consolations they on you bestow. 



Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest 
calms, 
Of holy offerings timely paid,* 
Of fire from Heaven to bless their votive alms 

And passions on God's altar laid. 
The world to them is closed, and now they shine 
With rays of love divine, 
Through darkest nooks of this dull earth 
Pouring, in showery times, their glow of " quiet 
mirth." 



New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay. 
This is their first, their dearest joy : 

Their next, from heart to heart to clear the way t 
For mutual love vs'ithout alloy ; 



* Having land, sold it, and brought the money, and laid it at the 
apostles' feet. — Acts iv. 37. 

t Barnabas took him, and brought him (Saul) to the apostles. — 
Acts ix. 27. 



S. BARNABAS THE APOSTLE. 189 

Never so blest as when in Jesus' roll 
They write some hero-soul, 
More pleased upon his brightening road 
To wait, than if their own with all his radiance 
glowed. 

O happy spirits, marked by God and man 

Their messages of love to bear,* 
What though long since in Heaven your brows 
began 
The genial amarant wreath to wear, 
And in the eternal leisure of calm love 
Ye banquet there above. 
Yet in your sympathetic heart 
We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a part. 

Comfort's true sons ! amid the thoughts of down 

That strev/ your pillow of repose, 
Sure 'tis one joy to muse how ye unknown 
By sweet remembrance soothe our woes. 
And how the spark ye lit of heavenly cheer 
Lives in our embers here, 
Where'er the Cross is borne with smiles. 
Or lightened secretly by Love's endearing wiles : 

Where'er one Levite in the temple keeps 
The watch-fire of his midnight prayer. 
Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps 

In heavenly balm, fresh gathered there ; 
Thus saints, that seem to die in earth's rude strife. 
Only win double life : 
They have but left our weary ways 
To live in memory here, in Heaven by love and praise. 

* Acts xi. 22 ; xiii. 2. 



I90 6". JOHN BAPTISTS DA V. 



S. So!)n aSa^Jtist's Bag. 

Behold^ I will send you Elijah the prophet before the 
coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord : and he 
shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children^ and the 
heart of the children to their fathers. — Malachi iv. 5, 6. 

Twice in her season of decay 
The fallen Church hath felt Elijah's eye 
Dart from the wild its piercing- ray : 
Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky, 
The herald star, 
Whose torch afar 
Shadows and boding night-birds fly. 

Methinks we need him once again, 
That favoured seer — but where shall he be found ? 

By Cherith's side we seek in vain, 
In vain on Carmel's green and lonely mound : 
Angels no m.ore 
From Sinai soar, 
On his celestial errands bound. 



But wafted to her glorious place 
By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones, 

His spirit with a dear embrace 
Thee the loved harbing-er of Jesus owns, 
Well-pleased to view 
Her likeness true. 
And trace, in thine, her own deep tones. 

Deathless himself, he joys with thee 
To commune how a faithful martyr dies ; 
And in the blest could envy be, 



^. JOHN BAPTISTS DAY. 191 

He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes, 
Star of our morn, 
Who, yet unborn,* 
Didst guide our hope where Christ should rise. 

Now resting from your jealous care 
For sinners, such as Eden cannot know, 

Ye pour for us your mingled prayer, — 
No anxious fear to damp affection's glow ; 
Love draws a cloud 
From you to shroud 
Rebellion's mystery here below. 

And since we see, and not afar. 
The twilight of the great and dreadful day, 

Why linger till Elijah's car 
Stoop from the clouds? Why sleep ye ? rise and 
pray, 

Ye heralds sealed 
In camp or field 
Your Saviour's banner to display ! 

Where is the lore the Baptist taught, 
The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue ? 

The much enduring wisdom, sought 
By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among ? 
Who counts it gain t 
His hght should wane. 
So the whole world to Jesus throng? 

Thou Spirit Who the Church didst lend 
Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild,:|: 
We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend, 

* The babe leaped In my womb for joy.— S. Luke i._44- 
+ He must increase, but I must decrease.— b. John ui. 30. 
X Revelation xii. 14. 



192 >S. PETERS DAY. 

With flames like these, all bright and undefiled, 
Her watchfires light, 
To guide aright 
Our weary souls, by earth beguiled. 

So glorious let thy Pastors shine, 
That by their speaking lives the world may learn 

First filial duty, then divine,* 
That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn ; 
And ready prove, 
In fires of love. 
At sight of Thee, for aye to burn. 



When Herod would have brought hhn forth., the same night 
Peter was sleepmg. — Acts xii. 6. 

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,! 

Watch by Thine own forgiven friend ; 
In sharpest perils faithful proved, 

Let his soul love Thee to the end. 

The prayer is heard — else why so deep 
His slumber on the eve of death? 

And wherefore smiles he in his sleep 
As one who drew celestial breath ? 

He loves and is beloved again — 
Can his soul choose but be at rest ? 

Sorrow hath fled away, and pain 
Dares not invade the guarded nest. 

* He shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the 
heart of the children to their fathers. — Malachi iv. 6. 

To turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the dis- 
obedient to the wisdom of the just ; to make ready a people pre- 
pared for the Lord. — S. Luke i. 17. 

t S. John xxi. 15, 16, 17. 



S. PETER'S DAY. 193 

He dearly loves, and not alone : 

For his winged thoughts are soaring high 
Where never yet frail heart was known 

To breathe in vain affection's sigh. 

He loves and weeps — but more than tears 
Have sealed Thy welcome and his love ; 

One look lives in him, and endears 
Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove : 

That gracious chiding look,* Thy call 

To win him to himself and Thee, 
Sweetening the sorrow of his fall 

Which else were rued too bitterly. 

Even through the veil of sleep it shines, 
The memory of that kindly glance ; — 

The angel watching by divines 

And spares awhile his blissful trance. 

Or haply to his native lake 

His vision wafts him back, to talk 
With Jesus, ere His flight He take, 

As in that solemn evening walk, 

When to the bosom of His friend, 

The Shepherd, He Whose name is Good, 

Did His dear lambs and sheep commend. 
Both bought and nourished with His blood : 

Then laid on him the inverted tree, 

Which firm embraced with heart and arm, 

Might cast o'er hope and memory, 
O'er life and death, its awful charm. 

* S. Luke xxii. 61. 



194 S. Fi: TEH'S DA V. 

With brightening heart he bears it on, 
His passport through the eternal gates, 

To his sweet home — so nearly won ; 
He seems, as by the door he waits, 

The unexpressive notes to hear 
Of angel song and angel motion, 

Rising and falling on the ear 

Like waves in Joy's unbounded ocean. 

His dream is changed — the Tyrant's voice 
Calls to that last of glorious deeds — 

But as he rises to rejoice. 

Not Herod but an angel leads. 

He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright. 
Glancing around his prison room — 

But 'tis a gleam of heavenly light 
That fills up all the ample gloom. 

The flame that in a few short years 

Deep through the chambers of the dead 

Shall pierce and dry the fount of tears. 
Is waving o'er his dungeon-bed. 

Touched he upstarts — his chains unbind — 
Through darksome vault, up massy stair. 

His dizzy, doubting footsteps Vv^ind 
To freedom and cool moonlight air. 

Then all himself, all joy and calm, 
Though for awhile his hand forego. 

Just as it touched, the martyr's palm. 
He turns him to his task below : 

The pastoral staff, the keys of Heaven, 
To wield awhile in grey-haired might, 

Then from his cross to spring forgiven, 
And follow Jesus out of sight. 



S. /AMES THE APOSTLE. 195 



S» %vmzn ttje ^^ostle* 



Ye shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptized with 
the baptism that I a^n baptized with : but to sit on my right 
hand, and on my left, is not miiie to give; but it shall 
be give ft to them for whom it is prepared of my Father. — 
S. Matthew xx. 23. 



Sit down and take thy fill of joy 

At God's right hand, a bidden guest, 
Drink of the cup that cannot cloy, 

Eat of the bread that cannot waste. 
O great Apostle ! rightly now 

Thou readest all thy Saviour meant. 
What time His grave yet gentle brow 

In sweet reproof on thee was bent. 

" Seek ye to sit enthroned by Me ? 

Alas ! ye know not what ye ask ! 
The first in shame and agony. 

The lowest in the meanest task — 
This can ye be ? and can ye drink 

The cup that I in tears must steep. 
Nor from the whelming waters shrink 

That o'er Me roll so dark and deep ?" 

" We can — Thine are we, dearest Lord, 

In glory and in agony. 
To do and suffer all Thy word. 

Only be Thou for ever nigh." 
" Then be it so ; My cup receive. 

And of My woes baptismal taste ; 
But for the crown that angels weave 

For those next Me in glory placed, 



196 S. JAMES THE APOSTLE. 

. " I give it not by partial love ; 

But in My Father's book are writ 
What names on earth shall lowliest prove. 

That they in Heaven may highest sit." 
Take up the lesson, O my heart ; 

Thou Lord of meekness, write it there, 
Thine own meek self to me impart, 

Thy lofty hope. Thy lowly prayer : 

If ever on the mount with Thee 

I seem to soar in vision bright. 
With thoughts of coming agony,* 

Stay Thou the too presumptuous flight : 
Gently along the vale of tears 

Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep, 
Let me not grudge a few short years 

With Thee toward Heaven to walk and weep : 

Too happy, on my silent path. 

If now and then allowed, with Thee 
Watching some placid holy death. 

Thy secret work of love to see ; 
But, oh ! most happy, should Thy call. 

Thy welcome call, at last be given — 
" Come where thou long hast stored thy all, 

Come see thy place prepared in Heaven." 

* Likewise shall also the Son of man suffer of them, — S, Matthew 
xvii. 12. This was just after the Transfiguration, 



^. BARTHOLOMEW THE APOSTLE, igj 



S)* Bart!)olomcto t|)e Apostle* 

yesus answered and said iifito kim, Because I said unto 
thee^ I saw thee under the fig-tree^ believest thou ? thou 
shalt see greater things than these. — S. John i. 50. 

Hold up thy mirror to the sun, 

And thou shalt need an eagle's gaze, 

So perfectly the polished stone 
Gives back the glory of his rays : 

Turn it, and it shall paint as true 
The soft green of the vernal earth, 

And each small flower of bashful hue, 
That closest hides its lowly birth. 

Our mirror is a blessed book. 
Where out from each illumined page 

We see one glorious Image look, 
All eyes to dazzle and engage, 

The Son of God : and that indeed 
We see Him, as He is, v/e know. 

Since in the same bright glass we read 
The very life of things below. 

Eye of God's word !* where'er we turn 

Ever upon us ! thy keen gaze 
Can all the depths of sin discern. 

Unravel every bosom's maze: 

* " The position before us is, that we ourselves, and such as we, 
are the very persons whom Scripture speaks of, and to whom, as 
men, in every variety of persuasive form, it makes its condescend- 
ing though celestial appeal. The point worthy of observation is, to 
note how a book of the description and the compass which we have 
represented Scripture to be, possesses this versatility of power ; 
' this eye, like that of a portrait, uniformly fixed upon us, turn 
where we will. ' " — Miller's Bampton Lectures, p. 128. 



xgS S. BARTHOLOMEW THE APOSTLE. 

Who that has felt thy glance of dread 
Thrill through his heart's remotest cells, 

About his path, about his bed, 

Can doubt what spirit in thee dwells ? 

" What word is this ? Whence know'st thou me ?" 
All wondering cries the humbled heart. 

To hear thee that deep mystery. 
The knowledge of itself, impart. 

The veil is raised ; who runs may read, 
By its own light the truth is seen. 

And soon the Israelite indeed 

Bows down to adore the Nazarene. 

So did Nathanael, guileless man, 
At once, not shame-faced or afraid, 

Owning Him God Who so could scan 
His musings in the lonely shade. 

In his own pleasant fig-tree's shade, 
Which by his household fountain grew, 

Where at noon-day his prayer he made. 
To know God better than he knew. 

Oh ! happy hours of heavenward thought ! 

How richly crowned ! how well improved ! 
In musing o'er the Law he taught. 

In waiting for the Lord he loved. 

We must not mar with earthly praise 

What God's approving word hath sealed ; 

Enough, if right our feeble lays 
Take up the promise He revealed ; 

" The child-like faith, that asks not sight. 
Waits not for wonder or for sign, 

Believes, because it loves, aright — 
Shall see things greater, things divine. 



S. MA TTHEW THE APOSTLE. 199 

" Heaven to that gaze shall open wide, 

And brightest angels to and fro 
On messages of love shall glide 

'Twixt God above, and Christ below." 

So still the guileless man is blest, 

To him all crooked paths are straight, 

Him on his way to endless rest 

Fresh, ever-growing strengths await.* 

God's witnesses, a glorious host. 

Compass him daily like a cloud! 
Martyrs and seers, the saved and lost, 

Mercies and judgments cry aloud. 

Yet shall to him the still small voice, 

That first into his bosom found 
A way, and fixed his wavering choice. 

Nearest and dearest ever sound. 



S. |^att|)eto t!)e Apostle* 

And after these things he went forth ^ arid saw a publican, 
named Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom : and he said 
ujtto him^ Follow me. And he left all^ rose up, and fol- 
lowed him. — S. Luke v. 27, 28. 

Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids, 
The nearest Heaven on earth, 
Who talk with God in shadowy glades, 

Free from rude care and mirth ; 
To whom some viewless teacher brings 
The secret lore of rural things, 
The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale. 
The whispers from above, that haunt the twilight 
vale : 

* They go from strength to strength.— Psalm Ixxxiv. 7. 



20O S. MATTHEW THE APOSTLE. 

Say, when in pity ye have gazed 
On the wreathed smoke afar, 
That o'er some town, like mist upraised, 

Hung hiding sun and star, 
Then as ye turned your weary eye 
To the green earth and open sky. 
Were ye not fain to doubt how Faith could dwell 
Amid that dreary glare, in this world's citadel ? 

But Love's a flower that will not die 

For lack of leafy screen, 
And Christian Hope can cheer the eye 

That ne'er saw vernal green ; 
Then be ye sure that Love can bless 
Even in this crowded loneliness, 
Where ever-moving myriads seem to say, 
Go — thou art naught to us, nor vv^e to thee — away ! 

There are in this loud stunning tide 

Of human care and crime, 
With whom the melodies abide 

Of the everlasting chime ; 
Who carry music in their heart 
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart. 
Plying their daily task with busier feet, 
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat. 

How sweet to them, in such brief rest 

As thronging cares afford. 
In thought to wander, fancy-blest, 

To where their gracious Lord, 
In vain, to win proud Pharisees, 
Spake, and was heard by fell disease* — 
But not in vain, beside yon breezy lake. 
Bade the meek publican his gainful seat forsake : 

* Itseems _f rom S. Matthew ix. 8, 9, that the calling of Levi took 
place immediately after the healing of the paralytic in the presence 
of the Pharisees, 



S. 3IATTHEW THE APOSTLE. 201 

At once he rose, and left his gold ; 

His treasure and his heart 
Transferred, where he shall safe behold 

Earth and her idols part ; 
While he beside his endless store 
Shall sit, and floods unceasing- pour 
Of Christ's true riches o'er all time and space, 
First angel of His Church, first steward of His 
Grace : 

Nor can ye not delight to think * 

Where He vouchsafed to eat. 
How the Most Holy did not shrink 

From touch of sinners' meat ; 
What worldly hearts and hearts impure 
Went w4th Him through the rich man's door, 
That we might learn of Him lost souls to love, 
And view His least and worst with hope to meet 
above. 

These gracious lines shed Gospel light 

On Mammon's gloomiest cells, 
As on some city's cheerless night 

The tide of sunrise swells. 
Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud 
Are mantled with a golden cloud, 
And to wise hearts this certain hope is given ; 
" No mist that man may raise shall hide the eye of 
Heaven." 

And oh ! if even on Babel shine 

Such gleams of Paradise, 
Should not their peace be peace divine 

Who day by day arise 
To look on clearer heavens, and scan 
The work of God untouched by man ? 
Shame on us, who about us Babel bear, 
And live in Paradise, as if God was not there ! 

* S. Matthew ix. 10. 



S. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS, 



S. i^id)ael anl! all ^ngel». 

Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minis- 
ter for them who shall be heirs of salvation ? — Hebrews 
i. 14. 

Ye stars that round the Sun of Righteousness 

In glorious order roll, 
With harps for ever strung, ready to bless 

God for each rescued soul, 
Ye eagle spirits, that build in light divine, 

Oh ! think of us to-day, 
Faint warblers of this earth, that w^ould combine 
Our trembling notes with your accepted lay. 

Your amarant wreaths were earned; and homeward 
all, 

Flushed with victorious might, 
Ye might have sped to keep high festival, 

And revel in the light ; 
But meeting us, weak worldlings, on our way. 

Tired ere the fight begun. 
Ye turned to help us in the unequal fray, 
Remembering Whose we were, how dearly won : 

Remembering Bethlehem, and that glorious night 

When ye, who used to soar 
Diverse along all space in fiery flight, 

Came thronging to adore 
Your God new-born, and made a sinner's child ; 

As if the stars should leave 
Their stations in the far ethereal wild, 
And round the sun a radiant circle weave. 

Nor less your lay of triumph greeted fair 

Our Champion and your King, 
In that first strife, whence Satan in despair 

Sunk down on scathed wing : 



- S. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 203 

Alone He fasted, and alone He fought ; 

But when His toils were o'er, 
Ye to the sacred Hermit duteous brought 
Banquet and hymn, your Eden's festal store. 

Ye too, when lowest in the abyss of woe 

He plunged to save His sheep. 
Were leaning from your golden thrones to know 

The secrets of that deep : 
But clouds were on His sorrow : one alone 

His agonizing call 
Summoned from Heaven to still that bitterest groan 
And comfort Him, the Comforter of all. 

Oh ! highest favoured of all Spirits create, 

(If right of thee we deem) 
How didst thou glide on brightening wing elate 

To meet the unclouded beam 
Of Jesus from the couch of darkness rising ! 

How swelled thine anthem's sound, 
With fear and mightier joy weak hearts surprising, 
" Your God is risen, and may not here be found !" 

Pass a few days, and this dull darkling globe 
Must yield Him from her sight ; — 

Brighter and brighter streams His glory-robe. 
And He is lost in light. 

Then, when through yonder everlasting arch, 
Ye in innumerous choir 

Poured heralding Messiah's conquering march, 

Lingered around His skirts two forms of fire : 

With us they stayed, high warning to impart ; 

"The Christ shall come again 
Even as He goes ; with the same human heart, 

With the same godlike train." — 
Oh ! jealous God ! how could a sinner dare 

Think on that dreadful day, 



204 S. LUKE THE EVANGELIST. 

But that with all Thy wounds Thou wilt be there, 
And all our angel friends to bring Thee on Thy 
way ? 

Since to Thy little ones is given such grace, 

That they who nearest stand 
Alway to God in Heaven, and see His face, 

Go forth at His command, 
To wait around our path in weal or woe. 

As erst upon our King, 
Set Thy baptismal seal upon our brow, 
And waft us heavenward with enfolding v/ing : 

Grant, Lord, that when around the expiring world 

Our Seraph guardians wait, 
While on her death-bed, ere to ruin hurled. 

She owns thee, all too late. 
They to their charge may turn, and thankful see 

Thy mark upon us still ; 
Then altogether rise, and reign with Thee, 
And all their holy joy o'er contrite hearts fulfil ! 



S. Jlufte tl)g 2SbanfieU»t* 

Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas, greet you. — 

COLOSSIANS iv. 14. 

Demas hath /orsakeft me, having loved this presettt 
world. . . . Only Luke is with me. — 2 Timothy iv. lo, 11. 

Two clouds before the summer gale 
In equal race fleet o'er the sky ; 

Two flowers, when wintry blasts assail, 
Together pine, together die. 



S. LUKE THE EVANGELIST. 205 

But two capricious human hearts — 
No sage's rod may track their ways, 

No eye pursue their lawless starts 
Along- their wild self-chosen maze. 

He only, by Whose sovereign Hand 

Even sinners for the evil day * 
Were made — Who rules the world He planned, 

Turning our worst His own good way ; 

He on?7 can the cause reveal, 

Why, at the same fond bosom fed. 

Taught in the self-same lap to kneel 
Till the same prayer were duly said, 

Brothers in blood and nurture too. 
Aliens in heart so oft should prove ; 

One lose, the other keep. Heaven's clue ; 
One dwell in wrath, and one in love. 

He only knows, — for He can read 
The mystery of the wicked heart, — 

Why vainly oft our arrows speed 

When aimed with most unerring art ; 

While from some rude and powerless arm 

A random shaft in season sent 
Shall light upon some lurking harm. 

And work some wonder little meant. 

Doubt we how souls so wanton change, 
Leaving their own experienced rest ? 

Need not around the world to range ; 
One narrow cell may teach us best. 

* The Lord hath made all things for himself ; yea, even the 
wicked for the day of evil. — Proverbs xvi. 4. 



flo6 S. LUKE THE EVANGELIST. 

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint 
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain ; 

No fear lest he should swerve or faint ; 
" His life is Christ, his death is gain."* 

Two converts, watching by his side. 
Alike his love and greetings share ; 

Luke the beloved, the sick soul's guide. 
And Demas, named in faltering prayer. 

Pass a few years — look in once more — 

The saint is in his bonds again ; 
Save that his hopes more boldly soar.t 

He and his lot unchanged remain. 

But only Luke is with him now : — ' 

Alas ! that even the martyr's cell, 
Heaven's very gate, should scope allow 

For the false world's seducing spell. 

'Tis sad — but yet 'tis well, be sure, 
We on the sight should muse awhile, 

Nor deem our shelter all secure 
Even in the Church's holiest aisle. 

Vainly before the shrine he bends 

Who knows not the true pilgrim's part : 

The martyr's cell no safety lends 

To him who wants the Martyr's heart. 

But if there be who follows Paul 
As Paul his Lord, in life and death. 

Where'er an aching heart may call 
Ready to speed and take no breath ; 

* Philippians i. 21. 

t In the Epistle to the Philippians, " I know that I shall abide 
and continue with you all : ... I count not myself to have ap- 
prehended," chap. i. 25 ; iii. 13. 

In 2 Timothy, iv. 7, 8, " I have finished my course," &c. 



5. LUKE THE EVANGELIST, 207 

Whose joy is, to the wandering sheep 
To tell of the great Shepherd's love ; * 

To learn of mourners while they weep 
The music that makes mirth above ; 

Who makes the Saviour all his theme. 
The Gospel all his pride and praise — ■ 

Approach : for thou canst feel the gleam 
That round the Martyr's death-bed plays : 

Thou hast an ear for angels' songs, 
A breath the Gospel trump to fill, 

And taught by thee the Church prolongs 
Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.f 

Ah ! dearest Mother, since too oft 
The world yet wins some Demas frail 

Even from thine arms, so kind and soft, 
May thy tried comforts never fail ! 

When faithless ones forsake thy wing, 

Be it vouchsafed thee still to see 
Thy true, fond nurslings closer cling, 

Cling closer to their Lord and thee. 

* The Gospel of S. Luke abounds most in such passages as the 
parable of the lost sheep, which display God's mercy to penitent 
sinners. 

+ The Christian hymns are all in S. Luke : the Magnificat, 
Benedictus, and Nunc Dimittis. 



2o8 S. SIMON AND S. JUDE, APOSTLES. 



S. Simon aitH <S» Sulic, Apostles* 

That ye should earnestly contend for* the faith which was 
ojtce delivered zmto the saints. — S. Jude 3. 

Seest thou how tearful and alone, 
And drooping like a wounded dove, 

The Cross in sight, but Jesus gone. 
The widowed Church is fain to rove ? 



Who is at hand that loves the Lord ? t 

Make haste and take her home, and bring 

Thine household choir, in true accord 
Their soothing hymns for her to sing. 

Soft on her fluttering heart shall breathe 
The fragrance of that genial isle, 

There she may weave her funeral wreath. 
And to her own sad music smile. 

The Spirit of the dying Son 

Is there, and fills the holy place 

With records sweet of duties done, 

Of pardoned foes, and cherished grace. 

And as of old by two and two,| 
His herald Saints the Saviour sent 

To soften hearts like morning dew, 
Where He to shine in mercy meant ; 

* " Be very anxious for it :" " feel for it as for a friend in jeop- 
ardy." 

t Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother ! And from 
that hour that disciple took her unto his own home. — S. John xix. 
27. 

% S. Mark vi. 7. S. Luke x. i. 



^. SIMON AND S. JUDE, APOSTLES. 209 

So evermore He deems His Name 

Best honoured, and His way prepared, 

When watching by His altar-flame 
He sees His servants duly paired. 

He loves when age and youth are met, 
Fervent old age and youth serene, 

Their high and low in concord set 
For sacred song, joy's golden mean. 

He loves when some clear soaring mind 

Is drawn by mutual piety 
To simple souls and unrefined, 

Who in life's shadiest covert lie. 

Or if perchance a saddened heart 

That once was gay and felt the spring, 

Cons slowly o'er its altered part, 
In sorrow and remorse to sing, 

Thy gracious care will send that way 
Some spirit full of glee, yet taught 

To bear the sight of dull decay, 

And nurse it with all-pitying thought ; 

Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild 
As evening blackbird's full-toned lay, 

When the relenting sun has smiled 
Bright through a whole December day. 

These are the tones to brace and cheer 

The lonely watcher of the fold, 
When nights are dark, and foemen near. 

When visions fade and hearts grow cold. 

How timely then a comrade's song 
Comes floating on the mountain air. 

And bids thee yet be bold and strong — 
Fancy may die, but Faith is there. 



ALL SAINTS' DAY. 



^11 Saints' 30 aj* 



Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we 
have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. — 
Revelation vii. 3, 

Why blowest thou not, thou wintry wind, 
Now every leaf is brown and sere, 

And idly droops, to thee resigned, 
The fading chaplet of the year ? 

Yet wears the pure aerial sky 

Her summer veil, half drawn on high. 

Of silvery haze, and dark and still 
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill. 

How quiet shews the woodland scene ! 

Each flower and tree, its duty done. 
Reposing in decay serene. 

Like weary men when age is won. 
Such calm old age as conscience pure 
And self-commanding hearts ensure. 
Waiting their summons to the sky, 
Content to live, but not afraid to die. 

Sure if our eyes were purged to trace 

God's unseen armies hovering round, 
We should behold by angels' grace 

The four strong winds sof Heaven fast bound. 
Their downward sweep a moment stayed 
On ocean cove and forest glade, 
Till the last flower of autumn shed 
Her funeral odours on her dying bed. 

So in Thine awful armoury, Lord, 
The lightnings of the judgment day 

Pause yet awhile, in mercy stored, 
Till willing hearts wear quite away 



ALL SAINTS' DAY. aw 

Their earthly stains ; and spotless shine 
On every brow in light divine 
The cross by angel hands impressed, 
The seal of glory won, and pledge of promised rest. 

Little they dream, those haughty souls 
Whom empires own with bended knee, 

What lowly fate their own controls. 

Together linked by Heaven's decree ; — 

As bloodhounds hush their baying wild 

To wanton with some fearless child. 

So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes. 
Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies. 

Think ye the spires that glow so bright 

In front of yonder setting sun, 
Stand by their own unshaken might ? 

No — where the upholding grace is won. 
We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell, 
But sure from many a hidden dell. 
From many a rural nook unthought of there, 
Rises for that proud v/orld the Saints' prevailing 
prayer. 

On champions blest, in Jesus' name. 

Short be your strife, your triumph full, 
Till every heart have caught your flame, 
And lightened of the world's misrule 
Ye soar those elder Saints to meet. 
Gathered long since at Jesus' feet, 
No world of passions to destroy. 
Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise 
and joy. 



JIOLV COMMUNION. 



?l^ol2 ®ommuttioiT, 

O God of Mercy, God of Might, 
How should pale sinners bear the sight, 
If, as Thy power is surely here, 
Thine open glory should appear ? 

For now Thy people are allowed 
To scale the mount and pierce the cloud. 
And Faith may feed her eager view 
With wonders Sinai never knew. 

Fresh from the atoning sacrifice 
The world's Creator bleeding lies. 
That man, His foe, by whom He bled. 
May take Him for his daily bread. 

O agony of wavering thought 

When sinners first so near are brought ! 

" It is my Maker — dare I stay ? 

My Saviour — dare I turn av>'ay ?" 

Thus while the storm is high within 
'Twixt love of Christ and fear of sin. 
Who can express the soothing charm, 
To feel thy kind upholding arm. 

My mother Church ? and hear thee tell 
Of a world lost, yet loved so well, 
That He, by Whom the angels live. 
His only Son for her would give.* 



* So God loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son. 
See the Sentences in the Communion Service, after the Confession. 



HOLY COMMUNION. 213 

And doubt we yet ? thou call'st again ; 
A lower still, a sweeter strain ; 
A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine, 
The very breath of Love Divine. 

Whispering it says to each apart, 
"Come unto Me, thou trembling heart.;"* 
And we must hope, so sweet the tone, 
The precious words are all our own. 

Hear them, kind Saviour — hear Thy spouse 
Low at Thy feet renew her vows ; 
Thine own dear promise she would plead 
For us her true though fallen seed. 

She pleads by all Thy mercies, told 

Thy chosen v/itnesses of old, 

Love's heralds sent to man forgiven. 

One from the Cross, and one from Heaven.f 

This, of true penitents the chief. 
To the lost spirit brings relief. 
Lifting on high the adored Name : — 
" Sinners to save Christ Jesus came."t 

That dearest of Thy bosom friends, 
Into the wavering heart descends : — 
" What ! fallen again ? yet cheerful rise,§ 
Thine Intercessor never dies." 



* Come unto me all that travail and are heavy laden, and I will 
refresh you. 

tS. Paul and S. John. 

X This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. — i Timothy i. 15. 

§ If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus 
Christ the righteous. — i John ii. i. 



314 HOLY BAPTISM. 

The eye of Faith, that waxes bright 
Each moment by Thine altar's Ught, 
Sees them even now : they still abide 
In mystery kneeling at our side ; 

And with them every spirit blest. 
From realms of triumph or of rest. 
From Him Who saw creation's morn, 
Of all Thine angels eldest born, 

To the poor babe, who died to-day, 
Take part in our thanksgiving lay, 
Watching the tearful joy and calm, 
While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm. 

Sweet awful hour ! the only sound 
One gentle footstep gliding round. 
Offering by turns on Jesus' part 
The Cross to every hand and heart. 

Refresh us. Lord, to hold it fast ; 
And when Thy veil is drawn at last, 
Let us depart v/here shadows cease. 
With words of blessing and of peace. 



?^ol2 2Saptism« 

Where is it mothers learn their love ?— 
In every Church a fountain springs 
O'er which the eternal Dove 
Hovers on softest wings. 

What sparkles in that lucid flood 
Is water, by gross mortals eyed : 
But seen by Faith, 'tis blood 
Out of a dear Friend's side. 



HOLY BAPTISM. ais 

A few calm words of faith and prayer, 
A few bright drops of holy dew, 
Shall work a wonder there 
Earth's charmers never knew. 

O happy arms, where cradled lies, 
And ready for the Lord's embrace, 
That precious sacrifice. 
The darling- of His grace ! 

Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam 
Upon the slumbering features glow. 
When the life-giving stream 
Touches the tender brow ! 

Or when the holy cross is signed, 
And the young soldier duly sworn 
With true and fearless mind 
To serve the Virgin-born. 

But happiest ye, who sealed and blest 
Back to your arms your treasure take. 
With Jesus' mark impressed. 
To nurse for Jesus' sake : 

To whom — as if in hallowed air 
Ye knelt before some awful shrine — 
His innocent gestures vv^ear 
A meaning half divine : 

By whom Love's daily touch is seen 

In strengthening form and freshening hue. 
In the fixed brow serene. 
The deep yet eager view. — 

Who taught thy pure and even breath 
To come and go with such sweet grace ? 
Whence thy reposing Faith, 
Though in our frail embrace ? 



2i6 THE CATECHISM. 

O tender gem, and full of Heaven ! 
Not in the twilight stars on high, 
Not in moist flowers at even 
See we our God so nigh. 

Sweet one, make haste and know Him too. 
Thine own adopting Father love, 
That like thine earliest dew 
Thy dying sweets may prove. 



Oh ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes 
To childish ears are vain, 

That the young mind at random floats, 
And cannot reach the strain. 

Dim or unheard, the words may fall. 
And yet the heaven-taught mind 

May learn the sacred air, and all 
The harmony unwind. 

Was not our Lord a little child, 
Taught by degrees to pray, 

By father dear and mother mild 
Instructed day by day ? 

And loved He not of Heaven to talk 
With children in His sight, 

To meet them in His daily walk. 
And to His arms invite ? 

What though around His throne of tire 

The everlasting chant 
Be wafted from the seraph choir 

In glory jubilant ? 



CONFIRM A TION. 217 

Yet stoops He, ever pleased to mark 

Our rude essays of love, 
Faint as the pipe of wakening lark. 

Heard by some twilight grove ; 

Yet is He near us, to survey 

These bright and ordered files. 

Like spring-flowers in their best array, 
All silence and all smiles, 

Save that each little voice in turn 
Some glorious truth proclaims, 

What sages would have died to learn, 
Now taught by cottage dames. 

And if some tones be false or low. 

What are all prayers beneath 
But cries of babes, that cannot know 

Half the deep thought they breathe ? 

In His own words we Christ adore, 

But Angels, as we speak, 
Higher above our meaning soar 

Than we o'er children weak: 

And yet His words mean more than they, 
And yet He owns their praise : 

Why should we think He turns away 
From infants' simple lays ? 



^onffrmatioii* 

The shadow of the Almighty's cloud 

Calm on the tents of Israel lay. 
While drooping paused twelve banners proud, 

Till He arise and lead the way. 



si8 CONFIRM A TION. 

Then to the desert breeze unrolled 
Cheerily the waving pennons fly, 

Lion or eagle — each bright fold 
A lodestar to a warrior's eye. 

So should thy champions, ere the strife, 
By holy hands o'ershadowed kneel, 

So, fearless for their charmed life, 
Bear, to the end, thy Spirit's zeal. 

Steady and pure as stars that beam 
In middle heaven, all mist above. 

Seen deepest in the frozen stream : — 
Such is their high courageous love. 

And soft as pure, and warm as bright, 
They brood upon life's peaceful hour, 

As if the Dove that guides their flight 
Shook from her plumes a downy shower. 

Spirit of might and sweetness too ! 
Now leading on the wars of God, 

Now to green isles of shade and dew- 
Turning the vv^aste Thy people trod ; 

Draw, Holy Ghost, Thy seven-fold veil 
Between us and the fires of youth ; 

Breathe, Holy Ghost, Thy freshening gale, 
Our fevered brow in age to soothe. 

And oft as sin and sorrow tire, 

The hallowed hour do Thou renew, 

When beckoned up the awful choir 

By pastoral hands, toward Thee we drew 

When trembling at the sacred rail 
We hid our eyes and held our breath, 

Felt Thee how strong, our hearts how frail, 
And longed to ov/n Thee to the death. 



MA TRIMONY. 219 



For ever on our souls be traced 

That blessing dear, that dove-like hand, 

A sheltering rock in Memory's waste, 
O'ershadowing all the weary land. 



There is no awe in mortals' joy, 

A deep mysterious fear 
Half of the heart will still employ. 

As if we draw too near 
To Eden's portal, and those fires 
That bicker round in wavy spires. 
Forbidding, to our frail desires, 

What cost us once so dear. 

We cower before the heart-searching eye 

In rapture as in pain ; 
Even wedded Love, till Thou be nigh, 

Dares not believe her gain : 
Then in the air she fearless springs, 
The breath of Heaven beneath her wings, 
And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings 

A tuned and measured strain. 

Ill fare the lay, though soft as dew 

And free as air it fall. 
That, with Thine altar full in view. 

Thy votaries would enthrall 
To a foul dream, of heathen night. 
Lifting her torch in Love's despite, 
And scaring with base wildfire light 

The sacred nuptial hall. 



MA TRIMONY. 

Far other strains, far other fires, 

Our marriage offering grace ; 
Welcome, all chaste and kind desires. 

With even matron pace 
Approaching down the hallowed aisle ! 
Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile, 
But where your prayers were learned erewhile, 

In her own native place ? 

Where, but on His benignest brow. 

Who waits to bless you here ? 
Living, He owned no nuptial vow. 

No bower to Fancy dear : 
Love's very self — for Him no need 
To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed : 
Yet comfort in His eye we read 

For bridal joy and fear. 

'Tis He who clasps the marriage band, 

And fits the spousal ring, 
Then leaves ye kneeling, hand in hand, 

Out of His stores to bring 
His Father's dearest blessing, shed 
Of old on Isaac's nuptial bed, 
Now on the board before ye spread 

Of our all-bounteous King. 

All blessings of the breast and womb. 

Of Heaven and earth beneath. 
Of converse high, and sacred home. 

Are yours, in life and death. 
Only kneel on, nor turn away 
From the pure shrine, where Christ to-day 
Will store each flower, ye duteous lay, 

For an eternal wreath. 



VISITATION OF THE SICK. 



W\)z Uisitation anH ©omnmtiion of t|)e S(cfe» 

Youth and Joy, your airy tread 
Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed, 
Your keen eye-glances are too bright. 
Too restless for a sick man's sight. 
Farewell : for one short life we part : 

1 rather woo the soothing art. 
Which only souls in sufferings tried 
Bear to their suffering brethren's side. 

Where may we learn that gentle spell ? 
Mother of Martyrs, thou canst tell ! 
Thou, who didst watch thy dying Spouse 
With pierced hands and bleeding brows, 
Whose tears from age to age are shed 
O'er sainted sons untimely dead, 
If e'er we charm a soul in pain. 
Thine is the key-note of our strain. 

How sweet with thee to lift the latch, 
Where Faith has kept her midnight watch. 
Smiling on woe : with thee to kneel. 
Where fixed, as if one prayer could heal, 
She listens, till her pale eye glow 
With joy wild health can never know. 
And each calm feature, ere we read. 
Speaks, silently, thy glorious Creed. 

Such have I seen : and while they poured 
Their hearts in every contrite word. 
How have I rather longed to kneel 
And ask of them sweet pardon's seal ! 
How blessed the heavenly music brought 
By thee to aid my faltering thought ! 
" Peace !" ere we kneel, and when we cease 
To pray, the farewell word is, " Peace !" 



VISIT A TION OF THE SICK. 

I came again : the place was bright 
" With something of celestial light " — 
A simple altar by the bed 
For high Communion meetly spread, 
Chalice and plate and snowy vest. 
We ate and drank : then calmly blest. 
All mourners, one with dying breath. 
We sate and talked of Jesus' death. 

Once more I came : the silent room 
Was veiled in sadly-soothing gloom. 
And ready for her last abode 
The pale form like a lily shewed. 
By virgin fingers duly spread, 
And prized for love of summer fled. 
The light from those soft-smiling eyes 
Had fleeted to its parent skies. 

O soothe us, haunt us, night and day. 
Ye gentle spirits far away, 
With whom we shared the cup of grace. 
Then parted : ye to Christ's embrace. 
We to the lonesome world again. 
Yet mindful of the unearthly strain 
Practised with you at Eden's door, 
To be sung on, where angels soar. 
With blended voices evermore. 



THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 223 



Sr|)e 2Sufial of i\,z SIBealJ. 

And when the Lo7-d saw her, he had compassiojt on her, 
and said tutto her, Weep not. And he came and touched 
the bier : and they that bare him stood still. And he said. 
Young man., I say zmto thee, Arise. — S. Luke vii. 13, 14. 

Who says the wan autumnal sun 

Beams with too faint a smile 
To light up nature's face again, 
And, though the year be on the wane. 

With thoughts of Spring the heart beguile ? 

Waft him, thou soft September breeze. 

And gently lay him down 
Within some circling woodland wall, 
■ Where bright leaves, reddening ere they fall, 
Wave gaily o'er the waters brown. 

And let some graceful arch be there 

With wreathed mullions proud. 
With burnished ivy for its screen, 
And moss, that glows as fresh and green 

As though beneath an April cloud. — 

Who says the widow's heart must break, 

The childless mother sink ? — 
A kinder, truer voice I hear. 
Which even beside that mournful bier 

Whence parents' eyes would hopeless shrink, 

Bids weep no more— O heart bereft, 
How strange, to thee, that sound ! 

A widow o'er her only son, 

Feeling more bitterly alone 

For friends that press officious round. 



224 THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

Yet is the voice of comfort heard, 

For Christ hath touched the bier — 
The bearers wait with wondering eye, 
The swelling bosom dares not sigh. 
But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear. 

Even such an awful soothing calm 

We sometimes see alight 
On Christian mourners, while they wait 
In silence, by some churchyard gate, 

Their summons to the holy rite. 

And such the tones of love, which break 

The stillness of that hour, 
Quelling the embittered spirit's strife — 
" The Resurrection and the Life 

Am I : believe, and die no more." — 

Unchanged that voice — and though not yet 

The dead sit up and speak, 
Answering its call ; we gladlier rest 
Our darlings on earth's quiet breast, 
. And our hearts feel they must not break. 

Far better they should sleep awhile 

"Within the Church's shade. 
Nor wake until new Heaven, new earth. 
Meet for their new immortal birth, 

For their abiding-place be made. 

Than wander back to life, and lean 

On our frail love once more. 
'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 

How grows in Paradise our store. 



THE CHURCHING OF WOMEN. 223 

Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on, 

Through prayer on to the tomb, 
Still, as ye watch life's faUing leaf, 
Gathering from every loss and grief 

Hope of new spring and endless home. 

Then cheerly to your work again 

With hearts new-braced and set 
To run, untired, love's blessed race, 
As meet for those who face to face 

Over the grave their Lord have met. 



W^z €:i)urc|)ittg of Women. 

Is there, in bowers of endless spring, 

One known from all the seraph band 
By softer voice, by smile and wing 
More exquisitely bland ! 
Here let him speed : to-day this hallowed air 
Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer. 

Only let Heaven her fire impart, 

No richer incense breathes on earth : 
" A spouse with all a daughter's heart," 
Fresh from the perilous birth. 
To the great Father lifts her pale glad eye. 
Like a reviving flower when storms are hushed on 
high. 

O what a treasure of sweet thought 

Is here ! what hope and joy and love 
All in one tender bosom brought. 
For the all-gracious Dove 
To brood o'er silently, and form for Heaven 
Each passionate wish and dream to dear affection 
given. 



2 26 COMMINA TION. < 

Her fluttering heart, too keenly blest, 

Would sicken, but she leans on Thee, 
Sees Thee by faith on Mary's breast, 
And breathes serene and free. 
Slight tremblings only of her veil declare* 
Soft answers duly whispered to each soothing 
prayer. 

We are too weak, when thou dost bless, 

To bear the joy — help, Virgin-born ! 
By thine own mother's first caress. 
That waked Thy natal morn ! 
Help, by the unexpressive smile, that made 
A Heaven on earth around the couch where Thou 
wast laid ! 



©omminatioti. 

The prayers are o'er : why slumberest thou so 
long. 
Thou voice of sacred song ? 

Why swell'st thou not, like breeze from moun- 
tain cave. 
High o'er the echoing nave. 
The white-robed priest, as otherwhile, to guide. 
Up to the altar's northern side ? — 
A mourner's tale of shame and sad decay 
Keeps back our glorious sacrifice to-day : 

The widowed spouse of Christ ; with ashes 
crowned. 

Her Christmas robes unbound, 
She lingers in the porch for grief and fear, 

Keeping her penance drear. — 

* When the woman comes to this office, the rubric (as it was al- 
tered at the last review) directs that she be " decently apparelled," 
i.e. as the custom and order was formerly, "with a white covering " 
or "veil." — Wheatly, on the Common Prayer, c. xiii. sect. i. 3. 



COMMINA TION. 227 

O is it naught to you ? that idly gay, 
Or coldly proud, ye turn away ? 
But if her warning tears in vain be spent, 
Lo, to her altered eye the Law's stern fires are lent. 

Each awful curse, that on Mount Ebal rang, 

Peals with a direr clang 
Out of that silver trump, whose tones of old 

Forgiveness only told. 
And who can blame the mother's fond affright,* 
Who sporting on some giddy height 
Her infant sees, and springs with hurried hand 
To snatch the rover from the dangerous strand } 

But surer than all words the silent spell 

(So Grecian legends tell) 
When to her bird, too early 'scaped the nest. 

She bears her tender breast. 
Smiling he turns and spreads his little wing, 
Thereto glide home, there safely cHng. 
So yearns our mother o'er each truant son. 
So softly falls the lay in fear and wrath begun. 

Wayward and spoiled she knows ye : the keen 
blast 
That braced her youth is passed : 
The rod of discipline, the robe of shame — 

She bears them in your name : 
Only return and love. But ye perchance 
Are deeper plunged in sorrow's trance ; 
Your God forgives, but ye no comfort take 
Till ye have scourged the sins that in your con- 
science ache. 



* Alluding to a beautiful anecdote in the Greek Anthology, torn, 
i. t8o, ed. Jacobs. See Pleasures of Memory, p. 133. 



228 FORMS OF PR A YER TO BE USED A T SEA . 

O heavy laden soul ! kneel down and hear 

Thy penance in calm fear : 
With thine own lips to sentence all thy sin ; 

Then, by the judge within 
Absolved, in thankful sacrifice to part 
For ever with thy sullen heart, 
Nor on remorseful thoughts to brood, and stain 
The glory of the Cross, forgiven and cheered in vain. 



iForra» of '^xz.^tx to be uscU at Sea* 

When thou passest through the waters, I zvill be with thee, 
— Isaiah xliii. 2. 

The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear 

Upon the desert main, 
As where sweet flowers some pastoral garden cheer 

With fragrance after rain : 
The wild winds rustle in the piping shrouds, 

As in the quivering trees : 
Like summer fields beneath the shadowy clouds 
The yielding waters darken in the breeze. 

Thou too art here with thy soft inland tones, 

Mother of our new birth ; 
The lonely ocean learns thy orisons, 

And loves thy sacred mirth : 
When storms are high, or when the fires of war 

Come lightening round our course, 
Thou breath'st a note like music from afar, 

Tempering rude hearts W'ith calm angelic force. 

Far, far away, the homesick seaman's hoard, 

Thy fragrant tokens live. 
Like flower-leaves in a precious volume stored, 

To solace and relieve 



THE A CCESSION. 229 

Some heart too weary of the restless world ; 

Or like thy sabbath Cross, 
That o'er the brightening billow streams unfurled, 
Whatever gale the labouring vessel toss. 

O kindly soothing in high victory's hour, 

Or when a comrade dies, 
In whose sweet presence sorrow dares not lower. 

Nor expectation rise 
Too high for earth ; what mother's heart could spare 

To the cold cheerless deep 
Her flower and hope ? but thou art with him there, 
Pledge of the untired arm and eye that cannot 
sleep. 

The eye that watches o'er wild ocean's dead, 

Each in his coral cave, 
Fondly as if the green turf wrapt his head 

Fast by his father's grave. — 
One moment, and the seeds of life shall spring 

Out of the waste abyss, 
And happy warriors triumph with their King 

In worlds without a sea,* unchanging orbs of 
bliss. 



Srt)e Accession* 

As I ix^as zvith Moses, so I will be with thee : I will not fail 
thee, nor f 07' sake thee. — Joshua i. 5. 

The voice that from the glory came 

To tell how Moses died unseen, 
And waken Joshua's spear of flame 

To victoiy on the mountains green. 
Its trumpet tones are sounding still 

When kings or parents pass away, 
They greet us with a cheering thrill 

Of power and comfort in decay. 

* And there was no more sea. — Revelation xxi. i. 



230 THE ACCESSION. 

Behind the soft bright summer cloud 

That makes such haste to melt and die, 
Our wistful glance is oft allowed 

A glimpse of the unchanging sky : 
Let storm and darkness do their worst ; 

For the lost dream the heart may ache, 
The heart may ache, but may not burst : 

Heaven will not leave thee nor forsake. 



One rock amid the weltering floods, 

One torch in a tempestuous night, 
One changeless pine in fading woods : — 

Such is the thought of love and might, 
True might and ever-present love, 

When death is busy near the throne, 
And sorrow her keen sting would prove 

On monarchs orphaned and alone. 



In that lorn hour and desolate, 

Who could endure a crown ? but He 
Who singly bore the world's sad weight. 

Is near, to whisper, " Lean on Me : 
Thy days of toil, thy nights of care. 

Sad lonely dreams in crowded hall. 
Darkness v/ithin, while pageants glare 

Around— the Cross supports them all." 

O promise of undying Love ! 

While monarchs seek thee for repose, 
Far in the nameless mountain cove 

Each pastoral heart thy bounty knows. 
Ye, who in place of shepherds true 

Come trembling to their awful trust, 
Lo here the fountain to imbue 

With strength and hope your feeble dust. 



ORDINA TION. 331 

Not upon kings or priests alone 

The power of that dear word is spent 
It chants to all in softest tone 

The lowly lesson of content : 
Heaven's light is poured on high and low ; 

To high and low Heaven's Angel spake; 
" Resign thee to thy weal or woe, 

I ne'er will leave thee nor forsake." 



©rirination. 

After this, the congregation shall be desired^ secretly in 
their prayers^ to make their humble supplications to God 
fo7- all these things : for the which prayers there shall be 
silence kept for a space. 

After which shall be sung or said by the Bishop {the per- 
sons to be ordained Priests all kneeling), 

Veni, Creator Spiritus. 

Rubric in the Office for Ordering of Priests. 

'Twas silence in Thy temple, Lord, 

When slowly through the hallowed air 

The spreading cloud of incense soared, 

Charged with the breath of Israel's prayer. 

'Twas silence round Thy throne on high, 
When the last wondrous seal unclosed,* 

And in the portals of the sky 

Thine armies awfully reposed. 

And this deep pause, that o'er us now 
Is hovering — comes it not of Thee } 

Is it not like a mother's vow, 

When with her darling on her knee, 

* When he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in 
heaven about the space of half an hour. — Revelation viii. i. 



232 ORDINA TION. 

She weighs and numbers o'er and o'er 

Love's treasure hid in her fond breast, 

To cull from that exhaustless store 

The dearest blessing and the best ? 

And where shall mother's bosom find. 
With all its deep love-learned skill, 

A prayer so sweetly to her mind. 
As, in the sacred hour and still. 

Is wafted from the white-robed choir, 
Ere yet the pure high-breathed lay 

" Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire," 
Rise floating on its dove-like way. 

And when it comes, so deep and clear 
The strain, so soft the melting fall, 

It seems not to the entranced ear 

Less than Thine own heart-cheering call, 

Spirit of Christ — Thine earnest given 

That these our prayers are heard, and they 

Who grasp this hour the sword of Heaven, 
Shall feel Thee on their weary way. 

Oft as at morn or soothing eve 

Over the Holy Fount they lean. 

Their fading garland freshly weave, 

Or fan them with Thine airs serene. 

Spirit of Light and Truth ! to Thee 

We trust them in that musing hour, 

Till they, with open heart and free, 

Teach all Thy Word in all its power. 

When foemen watch their tents by night, 
And mists hang wide o'er moor and fell, 

Spirit of Counsel and of Might, 

Their pastoral warfare guide Thou w^ell. 



ORDINA TION. 233 

And O ! when worn and tired they sigh 
With that more fearful war within, 

When passion's storms are loud and high, 
And brooding o'er remembered sin 

The heart dies down — O mightiest then, 
Come ever true, come ever near, 

And wake their slumbering love again, 
Spirit of God's most holy Fear ! 



INDEX. 335 



PAGE 

And is there in God's world SO drear a place, , , , .57 
And wilt Thou hear the fevered heart, ..... 27 

Angel of wrath ! why linger in mid air, 55 

As rays around the source of light, 17 

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid, , , .79 

Awake ! again the Gospel-trump is blown, .... 5 

Blessed are the pure in heart, 177 

Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide, . . . . .112 

Dear is the morning gale of spring, ...... 185 

Father to me Thou art, and Mother dear, , . . .68 

Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour, . . . 71 

First Father of the holy seed, 88 

Foe of mankind ! too bold thy race, « 49 

Go not away, thou weary soul, 127 

Go up and watch the new-born rill, 84 

Hold up the mirror to the sun, 197 

Hues of the rich unfolding morn, i 

I masked a rainbow in the north, 36 

In troublous days of anguish and rebuke, 131 

Is it not strange, the darkest hour, 77 

Is there, in bowers of endless spring, 225 

Is this a time to plant and build, ...... 135 

It is so — ope thine eyes, and see, 150 

It was not then a poet's dream, ....... 120 

Lessons sweet of spring returning, ...... 31 

Lord, and what shall this man do ? 19 

Lord, in Thy field I work all day, 109 

My Saviour, can it ever be, 95 

Not till the freezing blast is still, ...... 8 

Now is there solemn pause in earth and Heaven, . , . 98 

O for a sculptor's hand, 90 

O God of mercy, God of mightj ...... 212 

O hateful spell of sin ! when friends are nigh, .... ii8 

O holy mountain of my God, -75 

O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will, 73 

O Youth and Joy, your airy tread, .... . . 321 



236 INDEX. 



Of the bright things in earth and air, 
O day of days ! shall hearts set free, 
Oh ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes, 
Oh ! Thou who deign'st to sympathize. 
Oh ! who shall dare in this frail scene, 
On Sinai's top, in prayer and trance. 



82 
216 
182 
184 

139 



Prophet of God, arise and take, , 129 

Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun, 160 

Say, ye celestial guards, who wait, ...... 20 

See Lucifer like lightning fall, ....... 59 

Seest thou, how tearful and alone, ...... 208 

Since all that is not Heaven must fade, ..... 106 

Sit down and take thy fill of jo5'-, 195 

Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May, ..... 100 
Star of the East, how sweet art Thou, . . . . .29 
Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers, .... 147 
Sweet Dove ! the softest, steadiest plume, . . . .51 
Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies, 144 

Ten cleansed, and only one remain, 142 

'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze, ..... 3 

'Tis true ! of old the unchanging sun, 22 

The bright-haired morn is glowing, ...... 165 

The clouds that wrap the setting sun, 116 

The earth that in her genial breast, 102 

The heart of childhood is all mirth, 33 

The historic Muse, from age to age, 64 

The livelong night we've toiled in vain, ..... T23 

The midday sun, with fiercest glare, 174 

The morning mist is cleared away, . . . . . .157 

The prayers are o'er : v/hy slumberest thou so long, . . 226 

The shadow of the Almighty's cloud, ..... 217 

The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear, . . . 228 

The Son of God in doing good, . 137 

The voice that from the glory came, 229 

The world's a room of sickness, where each heart, . . . 187 

The year begins with Thee, ....... 25 

There are, who darkling and alone, ...... 44 

There is an awe in mortals' joy, ...... 219 

There is a Book, who runs may read, . . . . .47 

They know the Almighty's power, ...... 39 

Thou first-born of the year's delight, 86 

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved, ..... 192 
'Twas silence in Thy temple. Lord, . . . . . .231 

Twice in her season of decay, . 190 

Two clouds before the summer gale, . . . . . . 204 

Wake, arm divine ! awake, . . . . . . -41 

We were not by when Jesus came, ...... 171 

Well may I guess and feel, ........ 03 



INDEX. 



237 



What liberty so glad and gay, . 

What sudden blaze of song, 

What went ye out to see, . . 

When bitter thoughts, of conscience born, 

When brothers part for manhood's race, . 

When God of old came down from Heaven, 

When Nature tries her finest touch, . 

When Persecution's torrent blaze, 

Where is it mothers learn their love, . 

Where is the land with milk and honey flowing, 

Where is thy favoured haunt, eternal Voice, 

Who is God's chosen priest. 

Who says the wan autumnal sun. 

Why blowest thou not, thou wintry wind, 

Why doth my Saviour weep, . . 

Why should we faint and fear to live alone, 

Will God indeed with fragments bear. 

Wish not, dear friends, my pain away. 

Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids, 

Ye stars that round the Sun of Righteousness, 

Ye whose hearts are beating high, 

Yes— deep within and deeper yet, 



PAGE 

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• IS 
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. 170 
. los 
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• 153 
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. iss 
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. 133 

. 162 
. 167 
. 146 

. 199 

. 202 

. 67 

. 53 



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